Recovery
by Anonymity is crucial
Summary: After what happened with the Corporation, Peter has trouble finding his place. With danger lurking around every corner, it's up to the Avengers to help their youngest recover from his ordeal. I'm sorry the summary sucks, I suck at writing summaries. (Sequel to Broken)
1. Author's Note

**Hello my peeps, what's hanging? I apologize in advance for if this ends up being shit, but I tend to rush my writing, skipping over certain things that could stand to last longer than they do. This story is basically my promised sequel for Broken and it will basically, if you hadn't been able to tell from the title, will follow the recovery process of Peter Parker and the rest of the Avengers. The whole thing is basically akin to a therapy session, though with more fighting, movement, spazzing, and not a whole lot of actual sit down and talking. The talking is probably going to be shouting turned into broken sobs and such as things get worked out. So angst, love it.**

 **There's not much for me to say other than I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Favorite, Follow, and Review if you see fit to do so, just refrain from making any sort of rude comments please, if it's something about the writing, I'm pretty sure I already know about it.**

 **I also apologize for errors within my writing, as well as random missing words as I am aware the other story contains and I'll work on fixing that eventually, maybe. I don't proofread, it's too much work.**

 **As for the first chapter, I'm extremely dead right now and ready to keel over and the only thing keeping me somewhat alive is my music blaring through headphones. This will be my only update for today, or tonight, or whatever it is. I promise I'll post the first chapter tomorrow.**

 **Sorry for the strip-tease.**

 **Peace.**


	2. Chapter 1

The flight back was uneventful and silent. The gentle hum of engines could be heard through the walls, and quiet mumblings here and there bounced around. Peter had shuffled himself away from everyone, sitting as far from the team as possible, curling in on himself and staring at the floor. He could feel the glances the others kept sending his way, but he didn't acknowledge any of them. All he could think of was that he had nowhere to go. If it had been a simple kidnapping, he could have gone to stay with Ned, or even maybe Michelle, but since he was still internally, and somewhat externally, freaking out about what the Devil man told him, he needed to stay away from them. He couldn't live with himself if he did anything to them.

Tony kept an eye on Peter's form as they flew. He could see the way his shoulders and back moved with every shaky inhale and exhale. The way the kid was slightly trembling, staring blankly at the floor. The way he hugged his knees to his chest with a death grip. Tony could practically see the hurt, pain, and fear radiating off of Peter, and in turn it hurt Tony. It hurt him to know that he could have done something more to try to find the kid, to try to connect with him before this whole shit storm started. He should have been a better person.

The kid would flinch at every slight patch of turbulence they went through, curling in tighter and tighter. It reminded Tony of the plane ride from Germany and how the kid, despite his constant snarky mutterings and obviously fake smile plastered on his face, clutched the armrests of his seat with white knuckles at every slight bump in the plane's otherwise smooth flight. Apparently, the way to Germany was roughly the same, from what Happy told him. Even though the kid tried, and did an okay job, keeping his happy, bubbly exterior, Happy took note of the terror that flashed in the kid's eyes at every slight jerk, and the shaky breaths he would take on every bump.

"You know that you have a 1 in 11 million chance of dying in a plane crash kid? You have about a 1 in 5,000 chance of dying in a car crash, to give you perspective. There's nothing you need to worry about," Tony had told the kid, who's face flashed with hurt briefly before the kid laughed nervously and continued staring out the window with a sharp nod. He still wasn't sure why the kid was freaking out so much about planes.

So Tony watched Peter's reactions at every movement that differed from the smooth course they were on. The autopilot was in place once they took off, allowing for all of the Avengers to sit around and just chat, trying to figure out what exactly was going on.

"So they call themselves the Corporation? How original," Clint said with a roll of his eyes. "Soon enough we'll fight the Company, or maybe the Conglomeration! How terrifying." Natasha smacked him on the arm, with Clint uttering a sharp 'ow!' and rubbing the sore spot.

"Do we know exactly what they wanted from us? That man, Dr. Hellekson, just said that he wanted Tony, Steve, and Bruce. Did he get anything he wanted," Widow asked in a calm, yet somewhat terrifying manner.

"It turns out that we weren't who he was after in the first place," Steve said, glancing at the teen who was visibly trying really hard not to freak out.

"My question still stands."

"We have no idea. Apparently, we were just pawns in a bigger game. He used us to get to the kid," Tony spat angrily. "He wanted to break the kid." Each Avenger's face morphed into a scowl, though some more noticeable than others.

"So he wanted Peter. Why weren't you watching out for him Stark? He was dragged into this whole mess because of you," Steve asked somewhat harshly.

"So it's my fault that we all ended up at that compound? It's my fault that the kid ended up there? You know, you're right Steve, hit it right on the nose," Tony said, anger still somewhat evident in his voice, but it wasn't directed at anyone but himself. "If I had been paying better attention to the kid and not just ignoring him maybe all of this could have been prevented. Maybe the kid would still have someone to go back home to. Shit," Tony exclaimed before running a hand across his face and leaning back, his head hitting the wall with a soft thud.

"What do you mean someone to go back to Tony? What happened," Bruce asked softly.

"His aunt died in the fight between Spider-man and Green Goblin." It was a simple fact said with no emotion.

"What about his parents, siblings, I mean, it's his aunt, the kid still has a family right?" Everyone stared at Tony expectantly, watching the man's face twist into sadness, something none of them really had seen on him before, not truly.

"She was all he had left. His parents died when he was around six, and they left him with his aunt and uncle. The uncle died a few days before Spider-man showed his face, bled out in the kid's arms from a gunshot wound. I'm pretty sure this kid has had a heavy dose of survivor's guilt since then, and only getting worse from then on. His aunt was used as a bargining chip during the fight between Spidey and Goblin, and unfortunately, he was too late and another family member bled out in his arms. The worst part was he had to leave her lying there, because secret ID and everything." The group all stared at Tony before looking at the kid with looks of sympathy. They had all lost people close to them, but to lose so many before you were even sixteen was cruel.

"I call it Parker Luck," Peter said softly, causing the group to startle, not expecting the kid to reply. Peter remained staring at the floor. "It's how my life is, everyone I get close to ends up dead, mom, dad, Uncle Ben, Aunt May. It's just bound to happen."

"Kid, you still have friends at school, you have us, you have people who care." Peter turned to stare at them with sparkling, tear-filled eyes.

"I can't, not anymore," was all Peter could choke out before he went back to staring at the floor, hugging himself tighter.

"You can't what son," Steve asked softly, wondering if he should stand and comfort the teen or not.

"I can't be around anyone anymore," came the broken reply.

"Why is that Pete," Tony asked, slowly standing and moving towards the small teen. Peter just shook his head and buried it in his knees. "Come on Peter, you have to talk to us." Tony went to place a gentle hand on Peter's shoulder, but just before he touched him, Peter freaked and leapt clear across the jet, clinging to the wall with his back facing it. His chest was heaving and his eyes were somewhat wild.

The group watched as he slowly slid to the floor and started hyperventilating. He was shaking violently and letting out small whimpers and choked sobs as he curled in on himself, burying his head in his arms. No one moved, mainly because they weren't quite sure what to do. Sure they've each had their fair share of panic attacks, but none of them had witnessed a kid have one, or what they should do. Some people liked being comforted, others despised touch and it only made it worse. So they remained still and unmoving as the teen slowly tried to regain his breath and remain conscious.

After about an hour, Peter had somewhat uncurled and slowed his breathing closer to his normal rhythm and speed. His response somewhat shocked the group. He gave a shaky, breathy laugh and looked up at the group, tear tracks on his face.

"Well that was embarrassing, I kind of flipped out. Sorry," he croaked out with another short laugh and a watery smile on his face. The expression fell into one of confusion when he saw the concerned and shocked expressions on most of the Avengers, minus Natasha, but there was still concern sparkling in her eyes. "What?"

"Kid you just had a full-blown panic attack, and a bad one at that, and you're apologizing," Tony said softly, yet in a somewhat forceful manner, crouching down in front of the teen. Peter nodded slightly, confusion still evident on his face.

"Listen, son, you don't have to apologize for having a panic attack. We've all had our fair share, and it's nothing you need to be ashamed of," Steve said gently, causing another shaky laugh from the teen. Peter ran a hand down his face.

"I'm sorry I freaked you guys out, but I'm fine now, promise, just don't, no touchy okay," Peter said, trying to make somewhat of a joke, but it fell flat when he still saw the concern on their faces. His small smile fell into a serious expression. "Seriously guys, I'm fine, I've dealt with this kind of stuff before. Just don't touch me and let me sort it out on my own alright. I'm perfectly fine now though, see," Peter said, standing up and spreading his arms to his sides. "I'm fine, now how far from New York are we," Peter asked, wandering back to his seat, sitting down, and fiddling with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He missed the comforting weight of his webshooters pressing against his wrists.

"ETA's about five minutes," Clint responded, getting some looks from everyone, and he shrugged back at them. "The kid asked, I was just answering him, jeesh, touchy much?"

"Where are you planning on staying Peter," Natasha asked calmly. Peter didn't make any sound, just shrugging in response.

"I might go back to the apartment to see if any of my stuff's there and then I'll probably go and stay with my friend," Peter said, lying through his teeth.

"No you're not." Peter winced and stared into Widow's eyes. "You don't know where you're going do you."

"I can't stay with anyone," Peter muttered quietly.

"Why Peter," Nat asked in a more gentle tone than anyone's ever really heard he speak. Peter didn't respond and continued playing with his sleeve. "You can tell us, we can help you Маленький паук, you can trust us." Peter looked back up at her with furrowed eyebrows as he understood that she called him Little Spider in Russian.

"Why did you call me little spider," Peter asked softly, causing Natasha to raise an eyebrow.

"You speak Russian?" Peter's eyes flickered around before his head dropped.

"Apparently," he said. "Apparently I can do more things than even I know I can."

Everyone watched as Natasha stood and sat across from Peter, leaning closer to him. Tony had made his way back to his own seat before the exchange took place.

"What did they do to you Peter," Nat asked in a murderous tone, though directed at whoever hurt her Маленький паук. Sure she didn't know him all that well, but she had been watching him and keeping an eye on the teen, making sure he was alright. She was away on another mission when he was taken, and was back for less than a day before the mission to take down the compound.

"The Corporation created the Winter Soldier program," he muttered, causing the whole group to stiffen slightly. "They improved it, I guess, that's what that guy told me. They figured out a way to add in skills and stuff without having to take anything out. They tried it before, but now those people are dead because it was apparently too much information. They wanted loyal soldiers, but who still knew who they were. Apparently I was the perfect subject," Peter finished, so soft that only Widow and those with super hearing could hear him. Nat growled and Steve's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Those bastards," Steve growled, causing a small 'language' jibe from Tony, who was promptly smacked by both Clint and Bruce.

"That man told me that if I left, I was basically a time bomb. He told me that anything could cause an 'implant' to surface and I could, I could," Peter kept trying, but he had started to panic again. Natasha placed a gentle, yet firm, hand on Peter's knee, which surprisingly calmed him greatly. He gave her a soft smile before it fell as he started again. "That's why he asked if I really wanted to leave, and why he let us leave. He already got what he wanted, even if I wasn't a loyal soldier to them, I was still dangerous. That's why I can't stay with either of my friends, or you all. I could hurt, or kill someone without meaning to. I already have enough trouble holding back as is, but now, now I can't risk doing anything," Peter said, burying his face in his hands as the jet landed at the compound.

"We're here."

"We will help you Peter, you just have to trust us," Widow said softly. Peter looked up at her before giving a tiny nod. She helped him stand and the team exited the plane. They knew that they were going to have to help the kid somehow.

The problem was they didn't know how.


	3. Chapter 2

The team watched as Natasha led a very dazed looking Peter towards his room (they had set up a room for him at their upstate base in case he did join the team at some point). Each looked at one another as they all sat down in the communal living room when Natasha joined, remaining standing with her arms crossed.

"How are we going to help him?" No one spoke, though a few shifted uncomfortably.

"We should first help him emotionally, perhaps training and such as well." Nods.

"I could spar with the Man of Spiders, he would not be able to hurt me," Thor spoke, his booming voice bouncing around the room.

"Steve, you too."

"I'd be happy to. I could also help him learn his strength, seeing as how his strength and mine are somewhat similar."

"I think we should all help him, either training, or you two scientists with your nerd things. The kid seems to be a helluva nerd himself, verging on genius territory."

"No, he's already passed genius territory," Tony remarked, causing the group to look at him strangely. "The kid literally hacked into the Corporation's systems at the compound and shut down the lights. He made those webshooters of his from scrap he found dumpster diving, and made that webbing of his as well. The kid's definitely a genius," Tony explained. "What?" The others looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"You just complimented someone other than yourself," Clint said, leaning back against the couch with a smirk. "That kid must be growing on you."

"Speaking of kid, we never finished out discussion of dragging a kid into this fight. I mean what were you thinking Tony!" The billionaire flinched at Cap's harsh voice.

"I was thinking that I had very little time to round up my friends, and that I needed someone who could tie you guys up and yet hold his own against supers if it came down to it. I told him specifically to just hang back and web you guys up."

"You's have to had realized that he was not going to just stay out of it. He's a kid Tony."

"I know! You keep reminding me, and I tried to avoid bringing him into it, but Ross gave me a deadline and I needed help. He wanted to go to Germany."

"He did seem pretty excited," Clint pointed out, only to be smacked by Nat. "Hey! I'm just saying. He wouldn't shut up. And the way he talked to everyone when he first flipped in. The kid's a fanboy."

"You can't justify bringing a fifteen year old into a fight like that though."

"It wasn't supposed to be a fight! Don't you understand Rogers, I was trying to keep you guys from getting shot on sight. It was either I bring in the kid who could hold his own, or it was Ross' goons that weren't going to be so easy on you."

"Tony-"

"Don't Steve. When did you first realize that it was a kid, huh? Was it when he flipped in and stole your shield? Was it when you smacked him in the face with said shield? Maybe it was when you drop kicked him into a metal pole and dropped an airport terminal on him! When was it Rogers?! Surely you were clued in at some point," Tony shouted back, standing from his seat. Steve followed suit and the other Avengers were poised and ready to intervene if needed.

"I don't know Tony. It didn't click until were were at that compound and that man told me that I had fought a fifteen year old that you brought in!"

"You dragged Wanda into the fight, she's practically a kid!"

"She's in her twenties! And it was her choice," Steve growled back.

"It was Peter's choice to come as well!"

"You sure about that Stark? You didn't threaten him at all? Not even a little?" Tony winced slightly. "I thought so. What did you do Tony?"

"He threatened to tell my Aunt May that I was Spider-man," came a soft reply, causing everyone to spin around to face the teen. Even Natasha spun slightly, not hearing the teen walk in. She smirked and doubted the kid knew he was so silent he could sneak up on a trained assassin, the best. Steve turned back to Tony, looking ready to tear him a new one when Peter rushed to stand between them, holding his hands up.

"Don't Captain America sir! It wasn't Tony's fault, promise! He threatened to tell my Aunt May, sure, but I wanted to go to Germany! I had never left New York before and to get to meet the Avengers, well, who could pass that up," Peter chuckled, lowering his hands as the two men slowly calmed down and backed away.

"You still shouldn't have been involved," Steve said authoritatively. Peter shrugged.

"But I was, and I held my own. I was fine afterwards," Peter said with a wave of his hand, though slightly wincing as he thought about his injured ribs and how his whole body was aching for a whole day after, and how his black eye lasted for at least four more days. He thought about how Rhodes didn't make it out uninjured, and how almost all of Cap's team ended up imprisoned before Cap broke them out. Steve was watching him closely.

"I hit you pretty hard son. And you were tossed clear across the airport by Giant-man," Steve said and Peter rubbed the back of his neck.

"I was a bit banged up, but I was fine the next day, I swear. Super healing for the win, I guess," Peter responded sheepishly.

"How would you feel about training with us Peter," Natasha spoke up, changing topics effectively. Peter's face lit up for all but a fraction of a second before it fell and he started fiddling with his sweatshirt sleeve again. He then noticed that he was still wearing the outfit he wore at the compound.

"I don't want to hurt anyone," he mumbled softly. Thor stood with a smile on his face and hit Peter on the shoulder, lightly for Thor, but still with enough force to send a normal man sprawling across the floor and cause even Steve to stumble slightly. Peter remained planted on the ground, though he tensed up significantly at the contact, inhaling sharply as he froze. No one moved, though they were all ready for Peter to start to panic again. They all breathed a sigh of relief when Peter let out his breath and blinked a few times, smiling at Thor slightly. He did shift slightly away from the man, without noticing it.

"That is why I will be sparring with you Man of Spiders. No mortal can harm the Son of Odin," Thor exclaimed in his normal, booming voice, causing Peter's hands to fly up to his ears as he flinched in pain. "I am sorry Man of Spiders, I had forgotten about your hearing," Thor said in the quietest voice anyone had ever heard him use and Peter smiled at him, removing his hands.

"It's fine Thor, and call me Peter. Man of Spiders, though somewhat accurate, sounds really weird."

"Of course Peter."

"So, when do we start?"


	4. Chapter 3

I know I already posted this, but I changed over half of it after I realized that it wasn't overly in character for anyone. The portion about Mjolnir and Peter wielding it will be a part of a series of one-shots I'll post at some point which will have a compilation of a bunch of different ways that Peter and the team could discover he could wield Mjolnir. I'm sorry for the confusion and stuff. I needed to change it because it was bothering me, and this way, there's more I can do afterwards.

* * *

"Are you sure about this Peter, I mean, if you'd feel more comfortable waiting a few more days, that's fine." It was the next day and Peter was ready to start his training. He probably should wait a few more days, give himself time to process things, but he needed something to take his mind off of everything like a fish needs water.

"I'm sure, I need this," Peter said and Steve nodded before standing back with the other Avengers. Thor and Peter were going to spar, and Peter insisted that weapons were allowed, which is why Thor was twirling his hammer absent-mindedly as Peter fiddled with his webshooters.

"Whenever you're ready guys," Tony called, somewhat startling Peter out of the slight daze he was in, just fiddling with his webshooters. Thor let out a good-natured battle cry, leaping towards Peter, who's eyes widened as he leapt to the ceiling without trying. He heard the chuckles from the group and saw Thor smiling up at him. Peter grinned sheepishly, slowly lowering himself down enough to drop. He landed in a crouch before standing and going to rub the back of his neck, but instead shot a few strands of webbing at Thor, temporarily blinding him. Peter snickered, as did a few others, before Thor ripped the webs from his eyes.

"Well played Peter," Thor bellowed before charging again. The two fighting could only be described as a dance. Every time Thor would go to attack Peter, the kid would expertly dodge away, often twirling and bending, twisting and leaping like a professional acrobat/dancer.

"Fight back Pete, this isn't a dance," Tony called, causing Peter to flush red. Thor, on the other hand, was becoming slightly flustered by the Spider. Every move he made, it was dodged or counter with ease. Thor started upping his speed and strength somewhat, but Peter kept leaping and moving out of the way. The less Thor held back, the more Peter began to frown. He landed wonky and staggered a bit, allowing Thor to catch him with a fist and sent him skidding to the floor.

The team stared and waited to see if the kid would get back up. Even Thor was surprised. He hadn't actually wanted to hit the kid as hard as he did. So they waited for a few moments before Peter slowly extracted himself from the floor. He stood and slowly raised his head. No one liked the look in his eyes. Thor didn't seem to notice and he walked closer to the teen to see if he would like to continue. He didn't get past opening his mouth when Peter grabbed him by the arm and flung him into the cement wall opposite where they stood, creating a gaping hole in the wall.

No one moved as a cement piece fell from the top of the hole and everyone slowly turned back to Peter, who stood stock-still, eyes wide and shining. His hands were curled into fists, knuckles white, and body trembling. He bit his lip and noted that the team was looking at him warily, seemingly wanting to come over to him, but unsure if they would be given the same treatment as Thor.

Speaking of the god, he slowly sat himself up with a slight groan, rubbing his head with one hand and calling Mjolnir with the other, fore it had previously gotten out of his hand. He stepped back through the hole to see his team staring at the kid, all tense and all ready to fight if needed while the teen stood, staring numbly ahead, shaking violently with fear and panic. Thor furrowed his eyebrows.

"Why have none of you gone to the child," Thor asked his team. The group jumped slightly and spun to face him. "He is clearly in need of help. He did warn of what he could do, even if he was unsure of his true abilities," Thor said softly, not wanting his voice to be too loud for the teen, who was still frozen in his place.

"We just-"

"You are afraid," Thor accused, causing them all to look slightly guilty. Apparently, Peter had heard the accusation as well because he whipped his head to look at them, face unreadable, by eyes shining with sadness and apologies. Well, that was before he bolted. Faster than anyone could blink, Peter sprinted to the hole in the wall and ran.

He wasn't sure where he was running to, just that he needed to get away, he needed to stay away, from them. They were so nice, they tried to help, but he could hurt them, he could kill them. He would have killed one of them if he wasn't sparring with a god. He needed to get away, and now. Unfortunately for him, he had no idea where he was going. Somehow, by some random happenstance, he ended up in front of his room, so he ran inside and shut and locked the door. Peter paced a bit before he wandered into the bathroom, sobs working their way up his throat. He closed and locked that door as well and got into the bathtub. He wasn't going to bathe or anything, especially not fully clothed, but instead he pulled his knees to his chest, hugging himself as tight as possible, and buried his head in his knees with a sob. The darkness of the room was nice, like a blanket. He didn't want to leave.

When Peter sprinted away, he left many baffled Avengers behind, who then started after him. They, sadly, had no idea where the hell he went so they all ended up gathering in the living room to regroup.

"We should have waited a few more days before we started," Steve said.

"The kid wanted to train, you heard him say he wanted to."

"He did not harm," Thor spoke up and Tony rolled his eyes.

"To you. The wall on the other hand is very much harmed."

"I think that we're done with training for today."

"You don't say?"


	5. Notice

**Hey y'all, this isn't an actual author's note or anything. This is me telling you that I redid chapter 3 after someone pointed out that it wasn't really fitting, which when I thought about it, it really didn't. So I took the part about Mjolnir-wielding out and replaced it with something that I think fits better. The worthiness of the Spider-kid will still be tested multiple times in a series of one-shots I'm working on that I will put into one story title Worthy, which I will post at some point. Basically, it will just be a bunch of random one-shots of Peter learning about Mjolnir and then wielding it, shocking random groupings of people. It'll be fun. For now, I'll deal with this story.**

 **So, in all, I changed chapter 3, so go reread that sucker, it's all better, I promise.**

 **Thanks my peeps.**

 **Peace.**

 **P.s. The next chapter deals with heavy themes such as self-harm and other related things so I would advise those who are sensitive to this kind of thing to try to not read through it.**


	6. Chapter 4

**There are some heavy themes within this one so viewer discretion is advised. I don't want anyone to do anything because of it. I love you guys.**

The group waited. They couldn't really do anything at this point besides breaking down the door or busting another hole in another wall. They didn't want to do either because (1), it was avoidable destruction, and (B), it would probably freak the kid out even more, which they didn't want. FRIDAY would alert them if something happened that they needed to deal with, but until the kid came out, or that alert came through, they couldn't do anything.

"So...training….bad idea," Clint said, dragging out each word in an awkward manner, rubbing the back of his neck while others nodded.

"I think that the idea is fine," Natasha said, getting her strange looks. She shrugged. "The kid needed to know what he's capable of. We saw him throw Thor clear across the room and through a doubly-reinforced cement wall, without any difficulties. I doubt that that's even his full strength. He needs to know what he can do, as well as what he can't do."

"She does have a point," Bruce points out. "Peter knew that his strength surpassed any normal person's, and then he learned that there was something in his mind that could cause him to become deadly. He said he didn't even know what he could do before, let alone now. Helping him figure out what he can do is vitally important if we want to help him recover."

"Yeah, but still, Steve was right, we should have waited," Tony pointed out, head in his hands before he looked up when there was silence. Everyone was staring at him like he'd grown a second head. Throwing his hands up he stared back. "What? Is there something on my face," he asked.

"You agreed with Steve. That hasn't happened in a while."

"Well Capsicle's right, we shouldn't have, I shouldn't have pushed the kid."

"He did want to spar though Stark." Tony shrugged and put his head back in his hands.

"Sir, I have been hacked," FRIDAY announced suddenly, causing everyone to look at each other in concern.

"When FRIDAY, what did they do?"

"It appears my system was hacked when Mister Parker was first in his room the other day. I was able to undo it, but it took until today."

"Why did he hack FRIDAY," came the question.

"He cut me off from his room's systems. I could not see or hear anything occurring within his quarters."

"And why didn't you tell me this FRIDAY," Tony said, springing to his feet and heading towards Peter's room quickly, the others following suit.

"He also prevented me from announcing that I could not see or hear within his quarters. I just undid it all and you wished to know if you were needed," FRIDAY replied. The AI watched her creator and the rest of his team start running towards the teen's room. If she was a real being, she would be frowning with concern and sadness. Never had she wanted to be real more than now when there was a child in need of comforting.

Tony let out a stream of swears as he reached the door. Thor pulled the door from its hinges and the team filtered into his room, noting that absolutely nothing was different from how it had been sitting since the airport incident. Not even the bed was slightly messy. Steve rattled the bathroom handle to see if it was also locked. Of course it was.

"Peter, kid, are you okay?" A choked sob was all he got in response. He forced the door open and everyone's faces turned into a mixture of shock, sympathy, pain, sadness, and concern, a whole lot of concern.

Peter was sitting in the bathtub, a razor in one hand, the other arm outstretched as he ran the blade from his wrist to his elbow. The team was frozen in shock as the blood seeped out for a few moments before the cut started to heal over in less than a minute, the cut was fully healed with only the faintest scar showing that there was even something there at one point.

Tony finally snapped out of it when he watched the kid start flipping out and slashing at his arm, each cut deeper than the last. Tony lunged to grab ahold of the kid, not really thinking through the whole man vs. super strength thing. Fortunately, by some miracle, the kid was too emotionally compromised (which was no good thing in Tony's book) to give any fight. Tony managed to take the razor from the kid's hand and as soon as he did, he tossed it across the floor as far from the kid as possible. Steve moved in front of where it landed as another barrier just in case. Tony pulled the teen close and Peter collapsed into him, sobbing, his arm held out, blood dripping off of it, but cuts already scabbing over and healing.

"Shh, shh, it's okay kid, it's okay, you're safe, you're safe," Tony whispered, holding the kid awkwardly, as Peter sobbed, his body heaving with each breath.

"I'm sorry," came the quiet, and repeated reply. The team had slowly moved from the room, leaving only Tony, Peter, and Steve as a buffer in case the kid freaked out.

"Listen kid, nothing is your fault, none of this. What do you say we get you all checked on in the med bay? Even though your cuts healed, doesn't mean that you're out of the woods. Come Pete," Tony said, slowly helped the shaking teen from the tub. Tony and Steve shared a look when they saw the blood coating the tub and the kid's clothes. "Let's get you cleaned up first, alright?" The pair wandered out of the room, followed closely by Steve.

After getting rid of anything the kid could use to harm himself with, the supers let Peter wash himself, getting all of the dried blood off of his skin. He scrubbed and scrubbed until his skin felt raw, with water so hot it turned his skin bright pink. Peter stood under the scalding water for what felt like years before a knock on the door brought him back to reality and he quickly shut off the water and pulled on the baggy clothes they had brought him. A Stark Industries sweatshirt that was about two sizes two big, and some dark blue sweatpants that hung off his hips if the string wasn't synched, with the ends of the legs pooling on the floor.

He stepped out of Steve's bathroom (his was being cleaned) and unconsciously hugged himself, rubbing at his forearm. Tony looked at him, seemingly asking if he could touch him, and Peter nodded stiffly. The billionaire slung an arm around the teens shoulders and pulled him close as they made their way to the med bay.

It was all going so well, until they reached the med bay. The door slid open and all Peter saw was the Room back at the compound. Peter pulled himself from Tony's grip, muttering a series of no's as he backed away. Peter didn't see Tony or Steve, all he could see were White Coats coming for him again.

"Peter, hey, Pete, hey, look at me, look at me kid, you're safe, it's Tony, kid, it's me, you're safe," Tony said, trying to calm the clearly panicking boy. Both Tony and Steve could see the distress in the boy's posture and eyes.

"I think he's back at the compound," Steve said softly, moving forward slightly.

"Hey, Peter, son, you're safe, you got out of that place, you helped get us all out of that place. Peter, we just want to help you son, but you have to calm down and let us help you," Steve said gently, moving closer to the teen with every phrase. Peter blinked a few times, looking around frantically.

"St-Steve? Tony? What are you, what are you guys doing here? Why are you….I though," Peter said, grabbing his head in confusion. The two heroes looked at each other before looking back at the teen. Peter stared at them both, his eyes searching them for answers, confusion written across his face.

"What's wrong with me?"


	7. Chapter 5

It took a long time that was filled with reassurances, coaxing, and promises before Peter would step even one foot closer to the med bay. It took even more to get him inside of it and on one of the beds. Tony was extremely close to sedating the kid, and he could see that Bruce, who was waiting for them in the med bay, was ready with the syringe. Even more time was spent convincing the teen that they were friends and that he was okay and that they needed to hold his arm gently in order to get a better look at it. They weren't prepared for what they saw.

The three adults stared at Peter's forearms, staring at the crisscrossing patterns that littered every inch of skin, overlapping more often than not. Some were barely visible, others were contrasting greatly against his skin. What worried them most were the two, long, jagged, and knotted scars that ran from the heels of both hands all the way to a little more than halfway up each forearm. The skin, though it seemed to have healed a while before, was still slightly raised and extremely visible against his complexion. Peter wasn't looking at all, he just stared off to the side at a wall until he felt fingers brush against his scars, causing him to flinch away.

"Kid," Tony breathed softly and Peter curled in on himself, hugging his damaged arms to his chest, not meeting anyone's eyes. "How long?" Peter grated his teeth but didn't respond. "How long Peter?" A scrunched nose was the only response besides the teen hugging himself tighter. "Pete, please, how long," Tony pleaded, finally catching Peter's eyes. The kid looked so broken and apologetic that it nearly broke Tony too.

"The cuts that were new," Bruce said with a flinch, "appear as though it happened over a week or two ago by the stage of healing. It's nearly impossible to tell how many of the scars came from when with the healing factor."

"How does that help us Bruce?"

"The biggest ones, they weren't affected from the healing, were they, because it was before you were bit by the spider that gave you your abilities." Peter swallowed visibly before giving a jerky nod. "They were deep, extremely so, and long. By all accounts, you would see these kinds of scars on a dead man, though not as scars. You should have died, Peter."

"I know, but I'm still here aren't I," Peter said in a spat of anger. "Somehow, by some miracle, as I keep being reminded, I am still very much alive and existing. I should be dead, you're right Bruce, I should have been dead long before I was bitten by that fucking spider. By all accounts Bruce, I should have been dead long before these cuts showed themselves," Peter yelled before his jaw closed with a very audible snap and he closed in on himself once again. The three adults just stared at him in shock.

"Peter, what do you mean?" Tears trickled down his face as he forced himself to look at the three again before shifting in his seat.

"My parents died when I was six, that much you all know right?" The group nodded and Peter took a deep breath in and out before continuing. "My father was Richard Parker. He worked with Norman Osborn, before he went all insane and stuff," Peter said with a wince and a sniff, remembering how he had no one left. He steeled himself slightly before continuing once more.

"When I was at the compound they ran experiments on me, right, but that wasn't the first time that I've dealt with experiments." The adults faces became steely and anger became prevalent in their eyes. They knew where this was going, but they weren't going to stop Peter, because he needed to get it off his chest even if it hurt. It was bad to contain stuff and bury it, they all knew from experience.

"I never told anyone, not even Uncle Ben or Aunt May knew. They wondered why I was so weird in the way I acted, but I never told them..." Peter trailed off.

"Go on kid, you're doing good."

"My dad, Richard, he uh, he would take me to his workplace and he would, he would set me on a table and there were machines and tools and White Coats and it just, it hurt so much Tony, it hurt so much," Peter sobbed, hugging himself tighter. "It hurt so much, every day. When I wasn't in the lab, it was in the makeshift lab in the basement at home where he would give me different shots and test my reactions and stuff. He took samples of my blood, bone marrow, anything that could have some use of some sort. I don't remember if we ever played catch, or went to the park as a family.

All I remember is how the fluorescent lights sometimes flickered when the current was directed towards me instead, or how it smelled metallic down there, from metal or blood I don't know. I remember the cold of the table and the instruments and the clinking the tools made against their trays and one another. I remember feeling the different liquids they would inject me with either making me feel like I was burning from the inside out, like plasma in my veins, or like someone put liquid nitrogen into me. I remember the rustle of the coats the people would wear, including Richard, and the cool feeling of the tiles beneath my feet. I remember everything about those labs, but nothing about an actual childhood before I was abandoned on Uncle Ben and Aunt May's doorsteps." A loud crash caused Peter to fly off the table and land on the floor before crawling away. Tony muttered some curses, running a hand through his hair as he went to go after Peter.

"Shit, I'm sorry kid, I didn't mean to freak you out, I just, that bastard! I don't know how he could even think about experimenting on his own child." Peter was shaking, but accepted Tony's hand in helping him to his feet and back to the bed where he was sitting before Tony kicked the tray of instruments over onto the floor. Peter swung his legs like a child as everyone took their spots again.

"You never told anyone what Richard did to you," Steve asked with barely contained anger. Even Bruce was looking slightly green in the gills, and not because he felt nauseous. Peter shook his head.

"You need to tell someone what you're feeling, what you're going through Peter, it's not healthy to keep stuff in," Bruce said gently. Peter snorted in response, confusing the group.

"Yeah I'll just go up to one of my friends and be like 'hey guys, so you know how my parents died? Yeah I was really happy that they did because my supposed father experimented on me because of his work before they abandoned me at my aunt and uncle's. Oh and get this, I'm Spider-man, and I've watched all of my other family members die in front of me, and I keep flipping out because of sensory overloads, and I probably have a decent case of anxiety, depression, and some PTSD to top it off due to my most wonderful childhood.' That would go over just swell now don't you think?" Peter was sneering at the group before his face and head fell.

"I didn't mean-"

"I know, I just, it's hard to talk about," Peter said softly.

"I know it is kid, but you can't just keep holding shit in and not explode at some point. The more you get off your chest and the more of the world you can get off of your shoulders, the better you'll be able to control your emotions, and it will help you with reigning in your abilities."

"Eleven."

"What?" Peter held out his forearms.

"That's when I made these two. I started cutting as soon as I could really comprehend what I was doing, so like three or four." The adults clenched their jaws. "I tried before these, a few times, they always brought me back though. Even before the bite, I healed faster than normal. Richard was screwing around with my DNA, which is probably why I didn't end up dead like anything else that one of those biogenetically engineered spiders bit. Since it was an Oscorp spider that bit me, and Richard worked for Oscorp, and the experiments were sanctioned by Oscorp, I assume the plan was something along those lines, or these lines, or whatever."

"So you're saying your theory is that Richard expected one of the spiders to bite you and give you abilities eventually, and until then, he was literally changing your genetic makeup to allow you to not die when that time came? And I thought my dad was a piece of shit." Peter let out a sharp laugh.

"Yeah, it sounds insane when you say it like that, but I'm pretty sure it was something like that. I remember Richard working on something involving spiders, and I know that he was messing with my DNA to try to make me more adaptable to change or something." The group remained in silence for a little while before Bruce broke it.

"How many times Peter?"

"Sorry?"

"How many times did you try?" Peter shrugged and rubbed at his forearms nervously, all while shifting in his seat.

"What counts?"

"Anything."

"I'd say about seven, at the least. Probably more, but I have some blank spots in my memories when things got bad. I once woke up on a random rooftop near Hell's Kitchen in a pool of my own blood with a blood covered piece of glass in my hand. This was before I was bitten, which means that I some how, in all of my twelve year old glory, managed to end up pretty far from my house and on top of a random roof. I don't really remember getting there. That's where this is from though," Peter said, extending his neck and pulling his shirt collar down slightly, exposing a faint, yet deadly-looking scar across where his carotid artery is. "I did nick it, but by some miracle I didn't bleed out."

"Jesus kid."

"I stayed on that rooftop until it was pretty closed up and then wandered home. I don't really remember much of the times I tried, so I'm assuming there have been times where I tried, but can't remember anything," Peter shrugged, speaking softly and curling back in on himself.

"We promised to help you kid, and we will help you. Whatever you need, we will can get it. We will be here for you every step of every day. Peter, you aren't alone." Peter smiled sadly at Tony.

"I know," came a soft reply. Tony looked at the kid strangely before Peter frowned.

"Why does it feel like I'm alone then?"


	8. Chapter 6

Bucky had been in Wakanda with T'challa, who had his scientists make an upgraded arm for Bucky, made of vibranium, and with reduced weight. It was a long process, reattaching an arm and somehow connecting it nerve-wise like Hydra had somehow managed in the first place. They did it though, and Bucky felt like a weight had been lifted off of him, both literally and figuratively. He was on the next plane home and landed at the compound. It was the middle of the night, or early early morning, but whatever it was, Bucky was certain that everyone, or most everyone, would be asleep. He should be asleep too, he was exhausted.

Trudging into the base, he headed straight for his room, which happened to be right next to that Spider-guy's, but he wasn't ever around. The former Winter Soldier wandered into his room, flicking the lights on, and heading to his closet to pull some sleepwear on. He managed to get a baggy pair of sweatpants on, and was just about to pull a shirt over his head, a muffled scream caught his attention. Heading out into the hallway in a slight panic, he looked around, but found the space just as dark as when he wandered in.

A choked sob, muffled still, caused Bucky to whip his head around towards the Spider-kid's room. Walking quietly and carefully to it, he slowly opened the door and saw an outline of a figure sitting on the bed, hugging himself into the smallest ball possible. The figure was trembling with distress and Bucky could only watch the outline rock slowly with every soft sob. After his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw that the outline was probably the Spider-kid, and he took a few steps closer. The kid apparently didn't notice him, or didn't make any show of noticing him.

"Kid," Bucky called softly, causing the Spider to whip his head up in surprise. Even in the dark, Bucky could see that the kid's eyes were wide and somewhat shiny. Bucky's heart melted when he heard the childish sniffle the kid gave, and melted even more when he ran a sleeved arm across his face. The clothes hung off of his small frame, giving the impression that he was much younger than he was.

"You-you're the guy with the cool metal arm, Bucky Barnes right? Steve's war buddy?" Bucky smiled as the kid gave another sniff. He could hear the tremble of the kid's voice as another round of crying began to burst forth.

"Yeah kid, that's me. You mind if I sit?" Peter shook his head and went to speak, but all that came out was a soft whine and he started sobbing again. Bucky sat quietly next to the kid and didn't speak or move until the kid calmed down slightly again. Bucky placed a gentle hand on the kid's back. What the soldier didn't expect was for the kid to violently flinch away and nearly fall off the bed. He held up his hands in a gesture that meant no harm and Peter just gave a forced laugh.

"S-sorry, just still, have trouble with contact." Bucky frowned before moving his head in a way that asked if the teen was okay if Bucky touched him slightly. Peter eyed him warily, but upon curling back into himself, he gave a jerky nod, and Bucky rubbed his back as another round of sobs overtook his thin frame.

They stayed like this for at least fifteen minutes, with the former Winter Soldier gently rubbing circles on a sobbing teen's back. It would have been a strange sight. Bucky sat on the right side of Peter, which allowed him to use his hand instead of the metal one, which would have been cold, and not very comforting at all.

"What happened kid? How'd you end up here?"

"My, my only family I had left died and I wasn't handling it too well and ended up kidnapped by this group called the Corporation," Peter started, leaving out the part where he nearly took a swandive off a rooftop. "They held me for a little over a month before the Avengers showed up. Thing was, they weren't even looking for me, they just happened to end up in the same place I was," Peter said with an ironic laugh. Bucky grimaced and made a mental note to talk to the group about not finding the kid.

"What did they do to your kid?"

"They uh, they experimented on me, because of my abilities. They wanted to, um, see how far I could go without breaking." Peter swallowed a lump that formed in his throat. "A couple times I think they pushed a bit too far. I was past broken and I guess started getting more defiant and such. The one in charge, who said he could break anyone within days, couldn't break me in over a month," Peter spat with pride. Bucky smirked and patted the kid gently on the back.

"Don't even listen to bastards. If they tell you to jump, you take a running start and you fucking leap. They want you to break, you start building yourself back up to spite them," Bucky said and Peter gave Bucky the first genuine smile, truly genuine and not faked smile, he had made in a long while.

"The only reason the Avengers were there was because they lured them in. They wanted to capture them, but only to use them against me. The man in charge, the Artist or whatever his name was, spliced together a tape of Tony saying that I wasn't worth anything to break me fully. If I didn't have super hearing, I would have believed it." Peter gave a dark chuckle. "I heard the strange inflections and breaks between words, but I had a plan to get out by then. I had to pretend it got to me, but it didn't take much to pretend. Looking back, I'm not even sure I was acting," Peter said with a broken smile. Bucky growled, causing Peter to tense slightly.

"We got out," the teen said softly.

"What happened?" Bucky could hear the implication within the words.

"The Corporation created the Winter Soldier program," Peter said matter-of-factly and Bucky tensed, his face straightening and fire igniting in his eyes. The teen noticed this and put a hand on Bucky's arm to bring him back to reality. Shaking his head slightly, Bucky nodded at Peter to continue. They had a silent conversation of asking and responding to 'are you good' before Peter continued.

"They spent those years since you perfecting it I guess. They found out that they could make the program better if they didn't wipe the soldiers beforehand. They would just directly implant thoughts, skills, languages, ideas, anything that could be helpful for a 'Winter Soldier' at some point. Thing was, all of their subjects ended up dead, whether they went mad first or just straight up killed themselves. The information would overload their brains. The problem, they discovered, was that their brains were already fully developed for the most part, and none of their brains were capable of being somewhat elastic." Bucky shook his head slowly, not liking where this was going.

"My brain is still growing, since I'm only fifteen, and my mind is about as close to photographic or eidetic as you can get without being such, meaning it was sponge-like, still is. That, combined with my abilities made me the perfect candidate. I could have stayed which would have allowed me to train with these implants so I'd know what they were, but I had to get everyone out of there. The man in charge forced me out as well, and I wanted to leave, don't get me wrong, but he said that I was a time bomb? I mean, I could literally snap at any point and probably kill every single person in this base without trying, and I am not exaggerating unfortunately. I threw Thor through a reinforced concrete wall from across the training room without putting any more strength behind my toss than I used to hold up that airport terminal Steve dropped on me."

"Kid-"

"Peter, name's Peter. I figure since I know your name, you should know mine," Peter said gently. Bucky gave him a soft smile in return.

"Peter, listen, if there is anyone in the world that can help you, it's these people in this building right here. Sure, some of them are pains in the asses, but they're good people, I guess, for the most part. We've each had to deal with our own demons, and they made us stronger. I'm still working on my own. Brainwashing takes a long time to recover from if you'd believe that," Bucky said sarcastically, causing Peter to snort.

"I could see how that'd be difficult to deal with." Bucky gave a short laugh and a gentle smile in return.

"I may not remember everything, or know too much about anything nowadays, but I do know that the people here, no matter how strange and chaotic they seem, are good people who are going to work their asses off to help you kid, I promise. I include myself, now, into that mix because if there's anyone in this group that knows about brain issues and memory implants and shit, it's the guy who's brains went through the scrambler a hell of a lot of times." Bucky expected some sort of reaction, but he never expected the kid to hug him, tightly. He could barely breathe, and damn did the kid have strength.

"Okay kid, hey, Pete, I need to breathe," Bucky gasped out and Peter released him quickly, muttering apologies as Bucky laughed it off. "It's fine kid, super soldier, remember? It's going to take more than a kid to bring me down." Peter gave a lopsided grin before sitting cross-legged and playing with his sweatshirt sleeve. "So, are you going to tell me what that nightmare you had early was about?"

"I kept watching my aunt die, over and over, and every time, I was so close to saving her, but I failed."

"Was it just a dream, is she still around," Bucky asked warily, having an idea of where this was going, but hoping he was so very wrong. Peter shook his head sadly and Bucky's heart broke.

"I watched her die, I was so close, but I was too late. She bled out in my arms, just like Uncle Ben. I couldn't stay with her, I couldn't even stay with her after she died because I wasn't Peter, I was Spider-man, and identities and shit." Peter felt tears stream down his face and he angrily wiped them away. "I was too late to save them," Peter whispered, still swiping tears. Bucky grasped his shoulders and forced the teen to look at him.

"Peter, you did the best you could. Now, tell me, did you kill your Aunt?"

"Ye-"

"I mean directly kill her, as in you were the one who actually pulled the trigger, figuratively or literally depending on what happened to her."

"No, but-"

"Would she want everyone to know who you were under the mask?"

"No-"

"Did you do everything in your power to save her?" Peter nodded. "Then you have to listen to me kid. It was not your fault. She is not dead because of you."

"But she is! Goblin used her to get my attention and the only reason for that was because he knew that I was Spider-man. If I wasn't Spider-man, my aunt would still be alive."

"But hundreds, even thousands, might not be."

"But-"

"Families would be broken apart. Kids would have lost parents. Parents would have lost kids. People who could go on to do something amazing today might not have had that chance. Every person who might have died, or lost their wallet that held the last picture they have of their kid or significant, or could have been raped, or could have had to deal with any other of the numerous terrible things that could have occurred at any point, didn't, because of you. I know life has been shitty to you, taking your Aunt, and from what I hear, your Uncle, and I'm guessing your parents as well. But imagine if you were living comfortably with your family all safe and happy knowing that there were people out there who are hurting just like you are now, and you could have prevented it."

"Still-"

"No."

"What?"

"You don't get to say anything Peter, because life's been a bitch to you, but what have you done, you've given life a giant fuck you in return by saving all those people every day you put on you suit. Every person you save is another person you save from the same fate your family, or you, have suffered. You save lives Peter. You did so every day you could. Now I need you to save someone else."

"If you say I need to save myself, you just ruined a perfectly non-sappy and non-cheesy moment, kind of," Peter said with a smirk and Bucky gave a laugh and a smile in return.

"It's true kid. I know normally you do the saving, and probably don't understand the concept of self-preservation like a few other people I know, but now it's these idiots turn to help you save you. You deserve saving just as much as any of the countless people you saved. You have to understand that Peter." Silence filled the room and Bucky thought that maybe he overdid it slightly, but then Peter nodded with a watery smile.

"I can try."

"That's all I need to hear. Now, how about you and I go and raid the kitchen for some snacks?"

And that's how the other Avengers found them. Peter was sitting on the counter, legs dangling off of it, eating a spoonful of ice cream directly from a tub, while Bucky was sitting on a chair, propping his legs up on another, eating from another tub of ice cream. The thing that shocked the group the most was that Peter seemed to be somewhat okay, and actually laughed when Bucky said something quiet enough that no one could hear it, save for Steve, who blushed in embarrassment. Apparently, Bucky was telling Peter all of the stories he could about Steve, pre-serum, in all of his awkward glory. He couldn't be mad though because somehow, one broken super found another. Steve and the rest of the team smiled. At first, they weren't sure how they would help Peter. Now, they had somewhat of an idea.

That, and they realized that all the kid needed was someone who understands.

Bucky whispered something else and Peter snorted, spitting out some ice cream before the pair froze and starting giggling like teenage girls. Steve blushed out embarrassment again.

"Bucky!"

"Oh shit."


	9. Chapter 7

A common sighting for the next few days after the nightmare night, was both the youngest, and one of the oldest non-avengers chatting in the kitchen with some random food that no one even knew they had there at the base. It wasn't even at a reasonable time either. Apparently they would show up around two in the morning and remain there until the other Avengers happened upon them, then they'd drag whoever showed up into conversation and it was like a normal person morning, more or less.

It was all good and such until Steve walked in one morning at five, ready for his run, and stumbled upon Peter dangling from the ceiling by a thin strand of web, holding a conversation as usual with Bucky, but something made Steve stop and do a double take. The conversation was in Romanian. Steve figured Bucky knew Romanian, because he spent some time living in a place where is was spoken, but never in a million years did he think that Peter would know it, and be able to speak it seemingly flawlessly.

"Hey guys, what are you talking about?"

"Hey Steve, what do you mean, couldn't you hear us with super hearing and all," Peter asked, still dangling by just his feet, hair pointing towards the floor.

"Yeah, but it was in Romanian." Peter's eyes widened and his grip on the strand of webbing failed, causing him to crash to the ground with an oof before laying sprawled out starfish style, watching the web strand blow gently with an expression neither soldier could place.

"You okay kid?"

"We were speaking Romanian," Peter squeaked out, sitting up and staring at the two old men. Both looked at each other before looking at Peter and nodding. Bucky looked confused.

"I slipped into Romanian and you just kept talking, switching languages as well, so I figured that you somehow must have learned Romanian. Shit kid, you really didn't notice?" Peter shook his head before holding it with his hands.

"Stupid Corporation with their stupid implants."

"Look, we can-"

"It's fine, I don't really mind the languages all that much, they could prove useful, I just wish I could figure out how to notice when I get all switched up."

"We figure it out kid, don't worry. Hey, you want to join Sam and I on our morning run? Bucky, you're welcome to join as well." Peter narrowed his eyes in thought before standing and giving a short nod.

"Think of it as a training exercise. We'll see how your stamina is, as well as testing out your speed, maybe even some agility and such."

"Alright, cool."

That was how three men and one teen ended up in a random wooded place in front of a path.

"Normally our route is about five miles at a jogging pace, though Sam doesn't necessarily keep up the whole time," Steve said with a smirk, causing the man to elbow him. "Anyways, Sam might cut out at some point, but we'll keep going until you feel like you can't anymore, okay Peter?"

"Don't you mean until you can't go any farther old man?" Sam let out a snort and gave the kid a high five. Even Bucky smirked and, staring straight at Steve with the most shit eating grin on, he gave the kid a fist bump. Steve could only roll his eyes before they started lightly jogging around the route.

Around mile two, Sam was sweating and breathing a bit heavier, but the other three were perfectly fine and the two oldest of the group were making jabs at each other while the youngest listened on with a smirk.

When lap one was finished and they were heading onto lap two, it was just Steve, Bucky, and Peter, Sam having dropped back a bit after around mile three, and then cutting out after his lap was done. The trio jogged on, the soldiers increasing pace slightly as time passed, seeing if Peter could still keep up, or if he'd notice. He did keep up, and did not seem to notice. They ran for about eight miles before Steve and Bucky had broke out in a light sweat, but still Peter remained perfectly fine.

Around mile twelve, Steve and Bucky had slightly heavier breathing, but Peter had just broke out in a light sweat. Looking at each other, the soldier pair smirked and sprinted at full speed, causing Peter to cry out in surprise and sprint to catch up. The pair thought they were good, until the teen caught them and easily kept pace with them. Then he looked at the pair with a mischievous flicker in his eyes and, with a burst of speed, shot out ahead of them around a corner so he was hidden by trees. The soldiers slowed back to a jog, breathing heavily and chuckling in surprise. They rounded the corner and their smiles fell from their faces when they heard a whimper.

Peter was sitting on the ground, curled in on himself, rocking slowly, muttering a few things. His voice sounded like he was extremely close to breaking down.

"Kid, Peter, hey, are you alright," Steve asked and Bucky placed a gentle hand on Peter, not expecting the kid to bolt up and stare at them like he was a caged animal. He backed himself against a tree with a heaving chest and glanced around wildly.

"No, no no no no no, I got out, I got out," he mumbled. "I swear I got out, I'm not back here, I can't be here, I got out, I got out," Peter cried, sliding down the tree and seemingly trying to become one with nature with the way he was pushing against the trunk.

"Pete, it's me, Bucky, and Steve, you're okay, you did get out, you're safe."

"No, get away from me, get away!" Peter screamed at the swiping a hand out like a feral cat. The soldiers looked at each other.

"He's flashing back. Steve, this kid has a bad case of PTSD, and he hasn't even been through a war. Steve, I know they experimented on him, but what exactly did they do to him? He's a kid for Christ's sake!"

"I don't know Buck, we're still trying to get him to open up about what he's feeling at any given point. That and figure out how deeply it all runs. I mean, the kid's been depressed and somewhat suicidal since he was at least six, possibly before then."

"What," Bucky hissed, keeping an eye on the shaking boy to make sure that he was staying put and making sure that he was coming down from the flashback and it wasn't becoming something worse. "How can a six year old be suicidal?"

"He hasn't had a kind life in any sense." Steve had promised, along with Tony and Bruce, that none of them would say anything about what they learned that day in the med bay. Peter made them, he practically begged them, not to tell anyone. So Steve was going to keep that promise because God knows that the kid probably had a lot of broken promises behind him, whether it be from him, or to him.

"I know that his whole family is dead, and his aunt and uncle both bled out in his arms at different points in time. I figured his parents must have passed away as well. He's fifteen Steve! At least you were an adult when your parents passed, he was six!" The two soldiers watched the kid in silence for a little while, relaxing slightly when they saw the trembling had slowed and his breathing was fast, yet more regular.

"We don't know much of anything about his parents, it's never come up, but I will fill you in on what happened to his aunt and uncle, or he will. The main thing you need to know is that he is broken Buck, extremely so, and it's all hands on deck to help him feel like he has some semblance of a home and family with us."

"You don't think I didn't realize that Stevey? The kid woke up screaming with a nightmare a few nights ago, the first night we were in the kitchen eating ice cream? Yeah, I just got in when I heard a scream and went in to find the kid sobbing to himself. He watched his aunt die over and over. I know that kid is broken, hell I'd be broken if I had to watch that, and that's one thing. This kid's been through hell and worse, and somehow made it out physically. We just need to help him get out mentally and if you think that I wasn't going to help, I'd say you don't know me very well. I was going to help the kid the second I saw him sobbing. As soon as I saw him like that, I pictured you, or myself, that broken, and then I saw a fifteen year old kid who was dealing with shit no one ever should, and knew right then that he wasn't going anywhere that I wouldn't follow along to help."

Steve smiled at his friend and put a hand on his shoulder, thanking him. The two looked back at the kid to see him with his head leaning back against the bark of the tree, staring dazedly at the two soldiers. Tear tracks were visible on his slightly dirty face because they were in a forest on a dirt path after all, it was hard not to get a little dirty.

"Hey kid, you good," Bucky asked softly, wandering over to the kid and plopping down next to him. Steve followed suit on the teen's opposite side. Peter swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded.

"Yeah," he croaked. "I'm good."

"No you're not." Peter looked at Bucky and shrugged with a watery smile.

"Eh, worth a shot."

"You want to tell me what happened?"

"I uh, I rounded the corner and tripped slightly and suddenly I was back in the compound," Peter responded shakily, running a hand over his face.

"You don't have to tell us now kid, we can wait."

"No, no I need, I need to. They would make me run as fast as I could on a treadmill meant for 'enhanced individuals' or so they said. They would up the speed, sometimes slowly, other times immediately, and see how long and fast I could go. They would go until I was flung off the treadmill. There were consequences for when I would trip or stumble, and I guess that when I stumbled around the corner, I flashed back. I didn't mean to worry you guys. Sorry for ruining your run," Peter said, resting his forehead on his knees, hugging his legs to his chest.

"Peter, you didn't ruin anything. It wasn't your fault that you thought you were back there. You went through a trauma and you are still recovering from that. It's normal for you to have flashbacks and anxiety attacks and all of that," Steve said. "I still have flashbacks from the war, and from times know."

"I sure as hell have flashbacks for things I did while under Hydra's control," Bucky said, rubbing the back of his neck and Steve looked at him sadly.

"The point is kid, never apologize if you're hurting."

"Also never apologize for thinking you're a burden, or a buzzkill, or for worrying us, because you aren't any of those things, and we are natural worriers. I mean, I nearly died of worry when this guy over here was younger. I mean, he would pick fights in back alleys with guys ten times his size, and he would get his ass whooped, and not always by them," Bucky said, causing Steve to glare at him and Peter to give a small smile. They sat on the ground recalling times of humor and good memories until Peter felt good enough to move. When he did, they all stood and walked back to the base.

"So how was the run," Sam asked, lounging on the couch with a glass of orange juice. The trio looked at each other before Peter responded with a smile.

"It was fun, I totally beat these two fossils."

"Hey, not true kid, we could have whooped your ass easy if we were trying," Bucky added in, rolling with the way Peter was acting. If the kid wanted to play strong, Bucky would respect that, and so would Steve. He would let the kid play strong as long as he wanted until it was no longer helping anyone. Right now though, it seemed to be helping the kid gain back a little of his self-worth, if only a sand grain at a time; it was something.

"I don't think so Barnes, the kid is younger, by a few hundred years, don't you think kid?"

"Oh definitely. I mean, you guys are ancient, not even my grandparents, scratch that, great grandparents were around when you guys were. I mean, you lived with dinosaurs," Peter joked and sat down next to Sam who gave him a fist bump. Steve looked betrayed while Bucky rolled his eyes and punched Steve in the shoulder before sitting down next to Peter and lightly ruffling his hair. Peter tensed slightly, but relaxed when he determined he was safe.

"We're not that old," Steve argued and Peter cocked his head with a puzzled face.

"Nah, I'm pretty sure you are."

"Buck, tell him."

"What? We did fight Nazi dinosaurs," Bucky said with raised hands and Steve gave him the most betrayed look before bursting out laughing and falling to the counch next to Bucky, partially landing on him. This ended with the three soldiers pinning one another down, Sam near the top of the pile having tried to mediate the fight, but failing and getting pulled in, and Peter sitting on top of the pile with a shit eating grin on his face.

"I'm the king of the hill," he called brattily. That was when Clint walked in and towards the kitchen before doing a double take. The five stared at each other in silence, not moving, for all of ten seconds before Clint's eyes widened and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What the fuck?"

"Language."


	10. Chapter 8

"Therapy?!"

Peter had woken up, without screaming from a nightmare, which was an extremely rare occurrence in his life, even more so after his whole life as Spider-man started, and thought to himself that today seemed like an okay day. He got up, got dressed, brushed his teeth, ran his fingers through his chaotic bedhead, and headed out to the kitchen at around six in the morning, the latest he's slept since arriving here.

All was good and well. He wandered in, said hello to Bucky and Steve who were poking at each other like children, and opened the fridge. After grabbing and pouring himself a glass of orange juice, he sat on the counter, cross-legged, watching two grown men act like three year olds, complete with the 'stop touching me, i'm not touching you' phrases and everything. He gave a smile that faded when a wave of sadness washed over him.

 _"_ _Peter it's time to get to bed," Aunt May said, prodding the boy on the couch and wagging a finger in his face._

 _"_ _Stop it May," Peter had responded groggily, having fallen asleep on the couch and rudely awoken. "Seriously, stopping poking me." May grinned evilly and placed a finger hovering right next to his arm._

 _"_ _I'm not poking you," she said with a smirk and Peter just rolled his eyes and smirked himself._

 _"_ _You are poking me," he said, prodding her arm. She let out a laugh before poking him._

 _"_ _No I'm not."_

 _"_ _Are too."_

 _"_ _Nuh uh."_

 _"_ _Uh huh."_

 _Thus began the Great Poking War. It started simply enough, poking each other back and forth, but then it turned into a mock slap fight, which turned into a pillow fight, and ended with the two laying on the floor, laughing hysterically, well, trying to laugh, but just wheezing instead. That was how Uncle Ben had found them, laying on the floor, dried tear on their faces, and grins bright enough to light up all of New York. Instead of saying anything, he just joined them on the floor, but, with a look between Aunt and nephew, he fell into the crossfire of another poking war. This time it ended in the married couple tickling their nephew into tears and leaving all three in various states of breathlessness before each went off to get ready for bed._

Peter stared at his glass of orange juice, a sad smile on his face as he tried to remember how it felt to be that happy, that carefree. That was before the spider bite, before Uncle Ben and Aunt May died, before pretty much everything shitty happened in his life since his parents left him. With a sniff, Peter took a sip of his orange juice and muttered a hello to an approaching Tony.

"Ah man, I thought I was doing so good sneaking up on you," Tony said with a slight smile, feigning disappointment. Peter didn't even look up from swirling his orange juice as Tony grabbed a Poptart from the cupboard and took a seat at the counter, on a chair though, not on the actual surface like Peter. "You know kid, people eat off this thing." Peter muttered an apology and moved to get up but Tony raised a hand to stop him, a serious look on his face.

"Sorry," Peter said softly and Tony rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his Poptart. The two stared at each other as Tony swallowed before speaking, which Peter was grateful for.

"Look kid, first of all, stop apologizing all the time, you usually have nothing to apologize for."

"Sorry," Peter said before giving Tony a sheepish grin, to which Tony gave his own half smirk. Waving the Poptart at the teen, he continued.

"Seriously kid, work on it."

"Yes sir," Peter said with a mock salute before staring at his orange juice and taking a sip.

"In all seriousness though kid, I need to ask you something." Peter nodded for Tony to continue, a little nervous at what the billionaire needed because Tony looked nervous himself.

"I know we promised to help you, and by we, I mean anyone who is an Avenger, or lives in this base and is technically a part of the team, but isn't officially."

"But?"

"That's what I'm getting at. We promised to help you, but it's become clear that somethings run deeper than we originally thought they did and-"

"And you can't help me can you? I understand, didn't get my hopes up. I didn't really think that you guys would be willing to help me, or be able to," Peter said softly and with a shrug and Tony let out a groan and rubbed a hand down his face.

"That's not what I'm saying kid, ugh, I just, I'm not great with words. Englishing is hard," Tony said with another groan and a wave of his hands, causing Peter to let out a dull laugh.

"I get that."

"What I'm trying to say here kid is that I think, we think, that it would be a good idea for you to possibly, maybe, entertain the idea of a therapist?" Tony cringed slightly, curling up a bit and screwing up his face for an expected explosion. Peter blinked at Tony a few times.

"Therapy?!"

"Look kid, I know that it may seem stupid and stuff but-"

"Mr. Stark, you realize that I have a whole nother super identity that no one can know about, right?"

"Yeah kid, I know, that's why it will be with a person who has been dealing with supers pretty much their whole career."

"Mr. Stark-"

"Look, I know you probably don't want to do this."

"Mr. Stark, ju-"

"I know it sounds dumb, but it does help a lot of people. Steve sees someone, hell I saw someone at the peak of my instability."

"Mr. Stark, please just let me-"

"We all feel that you need someone to talk to, who would be able to-"

"Tony!" Tony froze at Peter's yell, soft, yet with force behind it. The kid looked years his senior, years even Tony's or Steve's senior, and his eyes were dull with the things they've seen.

"I've been through therapy before Tony." Now it was Tony's turn to blink stupidly at the kid. Peter gave a dry chuckle, setting down his juice and spreading his hands in slight exasperation. "You think that a kid who was seriously fucked up for pretty much his entire childhood, who attempted to kill himself multiple times, and who had panic attacks constantly, who barely left his room or apartment for weeks following my parents abandoning me and their deaths, hadn't been to therapy before?" Tony shrugged with a look on his face with an emotion Peter couldn't decipher.

"Yes?"

"It didn't help the first five times, and I don't think it'll help this time. I just need time Tony, that's it. Usually it gets better with time." Tony gave him a look that said 'you lying' but nodded.

"Alright kid, but if you start flipping out, mentally, and possibly physically, worse, I do suggest that you at least talk to someone, I don't even care who. Just talk to someone when you feel like you need to, or you want to, or you feel like shit, or anything. Please kid, promise you'll talk with someone at some point. It's not healthy to keep stuff bottled up, trust me, I know." Peter looked down at his juice after picking it up, swirling the orange contents before giving a hum of agreement.

"Yeah, I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Pinky swear," Tony said, holding out a pinky, causing Peter to look at him like he was insane, the teen letting out a confused laugh.

"What?"

"You heard me bug boy, pinky swear." Peter shrugged and pinky swore he would talk to someone. Tony smirked and walked away. Peter finished his glass of orange juice before washing and putting the glass away and heading back to his room, nodding to Clint, who was heading to the kitchen himself.

"Who drank all the orange juice?!"

Peter walked slightly faster.


	11. Chapter 9

Peter was sitting in the living room, watching random TV shows that were on, at around two in the morning. He couldn't sleep at all, it was a bad day. The whole day he was in a funk. The moment he woke up, he couldn't get himself out of bed. Once he finally worked up the strength to do so, he trudged into the kitchen and plopped down at the counter, resting his head on his folded arms. He felt so exhausted and run down the whole day, but he couldn't sleep at all because whenever he tried closing his eyes, memories of Aunt May bleeding out, and Uncle Ben getting shot, and the Vulture dropping him from the sky, and remembering how it felt when the building was crushing him, and his entire time at the Compound, and just everything shitty that's happened to him, flashed before his eyes and caused him to either wake up in a sweat, or some very close to having a panic attack.

So that's why he was in the living room. At two in the morning. Watching Aladdin for no reason other than it happened to be on. The screen's glow cast shadows across the large space as the soft murmurs of song came through the speakers. Peter had it on as low as he could still hear it, which was near mute, so he didn't disturb anyone. If he couldn't sleep, that didn't mean that the others couldn't. Staring blankly at the screen, he watched as Aladdin brought Jasmine back to her balcony after a flight on the carpet, and tried to feel some sort of emotion, but only felt drained. He didn't even hear the footsteps that got louder as the person approached him.

The teen jolted from his spot, and flew clear to the other side of the couch in a slight state of panic, his heart pounding violently against his ribs. He blinked rapidly, trying to process things as fast as his currently sticky brain would allow. It was like someone stuck a bunch of chewed up gum into the cogs of his mind, and then stuffed some cotton in for good measure to muffle everything. This meant that it took Peter a few extra seconds to register that it was no one who would hurt him, and another minute or two before he calmed down his pounding heart and his shaky breathing enough to somewhat relax.

"Disney at two in the morning. Not what I'd pick personally, but I'll go with it," Clint said, slinging an arm over the couch and crossing one leg over the other, relaxing back. He was wearing a black cotton T-shirt and bright purple pajama pants. He looked ruffled, his hair all mussed up, and looked like he had just gotten up from bed. Peter settled down and looked at himself. He was still wearing the same dark blue sweatpants and dark grey Stark Industries hoodie that he had been wearing the other day, and night before. He didn't have any energy or motivation to change out of his sleepwear yesterday, so he wore it all day, and was still wearing it.

"Why are you up? It is two in the morning, you should be sleeping."

"So should you kid," Clint said, looking at Peter before turning back to the TV. "How can you hear this, I mean, I know I can't hear for shit, but this is way too quiet, even by normal standards." With that, the man picked up the remote and turned the volume up a few clicks, putting on the subtitles as well.

"Why are you up," Peter tried again, getting another look from Clint.

"I'm up because you're up."

"You don't have to be, I'm sorry I woke you up."

"Kid, no, I woke up to get a glass of water, but then I saw the glow from the TV and decided I was going to hang with you for a bit. I mean, we haven't had a chance to actually, properly talk. Name's Clint Barton, Hawkeye, and you are?" Even though Clint knew who the kid was, and the general idea of what he could do, he wanted the kid to have the chance to tell him whatever he wanted.

"Pe-Peter P-Parker, Spider-man."

"Nice to meet you Peter. See, isn't this better now that we know each other better?"

"I knew your name already."

"And I knew yours, your point?"

"We don't know each other better than we did before you sat down," Peter said, confused as to Clint's agenda. The man muted the TV and turned to fully face Peter, a leg bent and up on the couch with his hands out, gesturing.

"Fine, you have a point. I'm Clint and I'm nearly completely deaf without my hearing aids. I will sometimes shut them off purposefully in order to not listen to Tony," Clint said with a smirk, tapping the device in his ear to make a show of it. Peter exhaled quickly in a short laugh.

"I wish I could shut out certain people sometimes."

"When Tony and Steve start butting heads, or if Tony starts blathering on about science and shit, or Bruce starts talking about chemistry, or anyone starts talking for too long, I just, zhoop, and I can't hear them," Clint said, ending slightly louder than he started due to the hearing aids being off. Peter grinned as the man turned them back on and put his hands on his leg.

"Do you know sign language then?"

"I'm not perfectly fluent in it, but yeah, I know it. Do you know any sign?" Peter twitched his nose and looked down at his hands, which sat in his lap while he sat cross-legged facing Clint.

"A little. When I have attacks, I usually can't talk or really move a whole lot, but sometimes I can manage to wave my hands around a bit, and I've learned some phrases to tell my friends, or my aunt or uncle before...So I know a little," Peter said, pausing for a bit after saying aunt and uncle. Clint pursed his lips.

"You know some from before the whole situation, but how much would you bet that somewhere in your noggin is the entire ASL, and possibly the other versions as well." Peter shrugged, trying to hide the slight wince his body gave involuntarily, at the mention of the Corporation screwing with his mind.

Bucky and Steve walked into the kitchen area to find Clint and Peter sitting on opposite sides of the counter, both cross-legged, and both waving their hands around furiously, rapidly signing things to one another.

"Morning Clint, Peter," Steve says, walking towards the fridge as Bucky sits at a chair between the two, watching them go back and forth with determination across their faces. Finally, Clint throws his hands in the air with a groan of defeat as Peter gives an over the top fist pump to the air and somehow, minus his usual perfect balance and stickiness, falls backwards off the counter, causing the teen to let out an oof, and the archer on the counter to fall off as well in a fit of hysterics. Bucky and Steve look at each other, both grinning and rolling their eyes.

"That didn't end well," Clint said, picking himself up off the floor and leaning against the counter, eyes scrunched as he rubbed the back of his head. "That's going to be a bruise later." Peter hopped to his feet as well, climbing back on the counter and sitting so he could face the other three in the room.

"I won." Clint stuck his tongue out at the teen, who retaliated the same way. "I've been meaning to ask, but where did Thor go off to? I haven't seen him since…" Peter trailed off slightly.

"He went back to Asgard, saying something about some sort of storm that was brewing or what not," Clint responded with a flippant hand gesture and a shrug. "He's been off-world for about three weeks now, ever since the day after we got here."

"Cool," Peter said with a nod, looking down at his hands.

"So, what was the whole spazzing hands thing about," Bucky said, waving his hands chaotically to give a picture of what he meant.

"We were seeing who knew the most, and worst, words in the different versions of sign language," Clint said and Bucky scoffed while Steve looked at the two.

"By worst you mean-"

"The dirtiest, foulest, naughtiest, and the most swearful, words."

"Swearful isn't a word."

"Meh. It is now," Clint said, watching Steve's eyebrows furrow in slight alarm as Bucky let out a loud burst of laughter.

"You were teaching the kid to swear in different ways?"

"No, I was merely seeing if he knew how to swear in different ways. I bet he knows more ways of swearing than any of us combined, including Natasha."

"Uh oh Steve, looks like someone might take the crown away from you."

"What?"

"Stevey here has the foulest mouth I have ever come across in my entire life, and I was in the army and could swear a sailor into the Mariana Trench. He had everyone beat for years."

"WHAT?!" Clint stared with wide eyes at the supposed Golden Boy, who rolled his eyes and gave a half-hearted glare to Bucky, who looked all too pleased with his comment, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Not the Golden Boy! Steve, how could you do this to us? What was with the swear jar, huh Steve? Or should I call you Mr. Swears-a-lot? Who are you really," Clint said, exaggerating every word and motion he made. Peter bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

"Wait, Steve, they didn't know? Oh ho ho this is good," Bucky laughed with a clap of his hands. "He was in the army! He grew up in Brooklyn! He lived with me for a good portion of his life! Mr. I-pick-fights-daily knows his way around swearing."

Clint continued to vent in the most over exaggerated way possible while Steve looked increasingly annoyed at both the venting archer and Bucky, who looked extremely smug and whose grin continued to grow the more Clint went on. Peter watched the whole scene with amusement. He could feel the cotton slowly being plucked from his brain, and the gum being washed away. Come to think of it, he hadn't really thought about his aunt or uncle since very early that morning. Oh wait. Just like that, Peter's rain clouds started gathering again, but started dissipating almost as fast when Clint tripped over his own foot and face-planted in the middle of a sentence and, after a second of silence, all three started laughing as the archer grumbled and started to get back up.

"Yeah, yeah, real funny, laugh at a guy's clumsiness, really clever." He tried to sound disgruntled, but failed miserably. Peter grinned mischievously, causing Bucky to raise an eyebrow at him when he saw it. As soon as Clint brushed himself off and looked up, a ball of webbing covered his eyes, causing the man to sputter before falling back on his ass. The soldiers and teen started laughing again, until Clint sprang up and made a flying leap towards Peter, making use of his colorful vocabulary in multiple languages.

"Language Barton," Steve laughed, causing Bucky to laugh harder as Clint flipped the Cap off, lunging for the teen who had sprung out of the way with a squeak. The two ended up in a cat and mouse chase.

Tony was tired, this he knew. He had been up all night in the lab, working on a new project, after being awake for the previous day and night as well. What he wanted currently was a cup of coffee, or five. He wandered into the kitchen, not noticing when a Spider-kid made a flying leap over him, and a slightly annoyed, but mostly entertained archer nearly bowling into him. He also didn't notice the two super soldiers laughing their asses off in the kitchen. All Tony did was make a beeline to the coffee maker and pour himself some of the much needed liquid. Upon drinking half of it, he blinked the weariness away enough to take in the sights around him with surprise.

Steve and Bucky were hanging off each other, laughing and occasionally muttering something about sailors, and Spidey being chased by a partially webbed-up archer, who was still hopping after the kid even though his leg managed to somehow get webbed to his hand. Tony watched, blinking, as his brain processed everything. By the time he snapped out of his confused daze, Clint had managed to get himself webbed to a wall, seemingly trying to sound angry, but failing miserably if the smile on his face was any indication. Peter gave him a sheepish grin and shrugged while the super soldiers just stared at Clint, shaking their heads slightly, smiles on their faces.

"What the hell is going on in here, at seven in the morning?" The four looked at Tony, looked at each other, and then back at Tony, who was still waiting for an explanation. Peter shuffled his foot on the ground before answering.

"Aladdin." Tony blinked before giving the kid a very confused look.

"Aladdin?" Both Peter and Clint nodded while Bucky and Steve looked at each other, just as confused as Tony. Clint and Peter looked at each other before Clint responded.

"Aladdin." Tony just shrugged, slightly exasperated, before rubbing his face and looking at his coffee. He walked towards the group, but continued past, going back to his lab. The four looked at each other before starting to laugh again as Tony walked away.

"Aladdin," Tony said, trying to make it sound like it made perfect sense.

"Clint's stuck to a wall because Aladdin. Makes perfect sense."

Tony continued muttering to himself upon entering the lab and sitting back down. Bruce turned around and looked at the man.

"Anything happening up there?"

"Aladdin."

"What?"

"Yup."


	12. Chapter 10

Peter woke up feeling more tired than when he went to bed. It had been exactly one month since they escaped the Compound. His joints ached and creaked as he tried to roll himself out of bed, but only managed to fall off with a thump. Sighing in acceptance, he pulled some blankets down and covered his whole body, laying face down on the floor. That's how Natasha found him hours later.

It was ten. Usually at least one team member would see the kid way earlier than that. It wasn't uncommon for Peter to be the first one awake and in the kitchen or living room. Today, though, no one had seen or heard the kid at all. Steve and Sam didn't think anything of it when they took off on their morning run, but became slightly more concerned when he still wasn't around when they returned. Bucky was just as confused, but they all decided that if the kid wanted to sleep in a little bit, it was perfectly alright. Then seven rolled around and brought Natasha and Bruce, one around twenty minutes before the other, and then Tony stumbled to the kitchen around eight. Clint wandered in about forty-five minutes later to grab his coffee. Steve made some pancakes, well, a shit ton of pancakes, for the team, and Peter somewhat slipped their minds until it was nearly ten and the fact was brought up by none other than Sam.

"Where's the Spider-twerp? I haven't seen him today," Sam asked casually, putting another piece of pancake in his mouth. Everyone looked at each other and made various noises of 'I dunno'. Ten came around and it was decided that someone should check on the kid, but Natasha was already on her feet, her flats silent against the tile as she walked to the kid's room. She knocked, of course, and gave it a minute before she opened the door, which wasn't locked. They had taken the locks off of the kid's doors ever since the incident a few weeks back.

"Kid? You in here," Natasha said softly, poking her head in as she opened the door slowly. She saw a brown tuft of hair sticking out of a haphazardly placed blanket which was half on the floor, half on the bed, forming a tent draped over a form. "You alive under there," Natasha asked in a slightly joking manner, but a twinge of worry gripped her heart. She let out a silent breath of relief when the lump gave a soft mumble, muffled by the blanket. Natasha gave a soft smile and crouched down, pulling the blanket back from the kid's head. He had his face pressed against the floor, and would have been staring at it if his eyes weren't closed.

"Whacha doin'?" Peter gave a muffled response before turning his face towards Natasha, whose smile became sad when she saw the bloodshot, puffy eyes of a kid who had been crying too much.

"Did you quote Phineas and Ferb?"

"Of course, you are a kid aren't you? A builder of sorts?" Peter gave a little nod, sighing and closing his eyes again with a soft groan. "Why are you on the floor, hiding under a blanket?"

"I tried getting up, but gravity said no," Peter mumbled and Natasha gave the kid a smile, sitting down next to him, back leaning against the side table.

"I see that. How long you been down here?"

"I dunno, what time is it?"

"Around ten, we were all worried about you." Peter looked at Natasha, eyes shining with apologies and she felt her heart clench in sympathy, but also anger at whoever broke this kid so badly.

"About five hours. It felt like longer."

"I get that Peter, I do. Can you do me a favor?" Peter hummed in response, eyes closing.

"Can you try to get up so we can go get something to eat? Cap made pancakes."

" 'm not hungry," Peter mumbled, his stomach choosing that moment to growl loudly. Natasha smirk.

"I think you're stomach disagrees. Come on Pete, time to get up." With that Natasha threw back the blanket and helped Peter to his feet. He swayed a bit before he slowly followed behind Natasha, head down, hood up, and hands shoved in his hoodie pocket. While Natasha moved with complete silence, Peter's feet shuffled along, socks sliding gently along the floor.

"Found him," Natasha said, pointing back at Peter, who shuffled his way in and sat in an empty chair at the table. A pile of pancakes was placed in front of him and he picked up the fork near him, but just pushed the food around, occasionally taking a small bite of a piece he cut off. He stared at his food, but he could feel the others looking at him. It was about fifteen minutes of staring and of him pushing around his food that he threw down his fork and stood up, his chair squeaking as it was shoved back.

"What are you guys looking at," Peter hissed angrily. He wasn't quite sure why he was so mad, but he just felt so angry, and felt terrible for exploding on the Avengers, but he couldn't stop himself.

"We're just worried about you kid, we-"

"Worried about me? You are worried about me? That's wonderful, just great, marvelous." Peter twitched his nose, which probably made him looked like a slightly angry rabbit, and he was probably about as intimidating as one currently, but he was so furious that he didn't care.

"Kid, please, just calm down."

"Calm down? I'm calm, perfectly a-okay! I mean, it's not like I was missing for a month before you people found me, without trying. It was about six weeks before we got out, right? Six weeks! Tell me one thing, did any of you notice I was missing? Huh, anyone, besides Tony who I guess gave up after a couple weeks." No one knew how to react.

"Look, Peter, I didn't want to stop looking, but an urgent matter came up and-"

"And what Tony?! You just forgot about the kid who you dragged into all this shit whose only family died and who was missing for two weeks without a trace? Makes sense I guess."

"What makes sense kid?"

"Forgetting about me, some random nerd from Queens who has more bullies than friends, who is 'just a kid' who needs a tracker in their suit, as well as a 'Training Wheels Protocol' and a suit that records everything whenever I put the mask on. Some kid who you invited to Germany to fight half of your team, but then you dropped back off at his apartment without a word for weeks until some big baddie selling alien tech decides to drown me in a lake. Then, you don't talk to me again and then take back the suit while lecturing me about being irresponsible and telling me to let the authorities handle it when, guess what, you never told me about the FBI being a part of it! I saved your ass after you took the suit, nearly dying a few times thank you very much, and what do I get, an invitation to join the Avengers, which you told me before the whole Vulture thing wasn't even within my reach any time soon. After I turned you down, what happens? Oh yeah, I get ignored again. I almost forgot about that since it happened so often," Peter ranted, the words spewing from his mouth even though he was trying to stop.

"I called you, texted you, hell I swung by a few times, but I got nothing but told to scram or you'd smack me with a flyswatter, or tell people who I was under the mask. Did you even realize I stopped popping by after you threatened to tell people who I was? I bet not, who remembers the kid who thought that maybe someone other than his aunt and two friends cared about him at least somewhat. You know Tony, I looked up to you, I really did. I wanted to be like you, you told me to be better. I think I did pretty good, don't you? I mean, I lost everything in the process, but I did it, I saved people, and that's what counts right? It doesn't matter who I lose, what I lose, as long as everyone else is okay. You didn't even know May died until I was gone did you? I know you didn't because I called you, asking if we could talk. I left messages telling you what happened. I was gone before you started caring." Tony's face was blank, but his jaw was clenched so tight he might break some teeth. The rest of the group was either staring at Tony in anger, or Peter in shock.

"Kid-"

"No! You don't get to 'kid' me! I only matter when it's important for you! You needed help in Germany, so I was dragged in. You needed me out of your hair so you gave me the suit and told me to scram, and then told me to stay down when you took it away. I told you Aunt May knew about Spider-man, but you shrugged and waved me away. I wasn't necessary after saving your ass with the plane, so I never got a response. You needed me, and then tossed me when I wasn't of use to you. I get that, I know what it looks like, I've dealt with that shit before.

I mean, I grew up with shitty people who I don't even want to call my parents, who abandoned me at six on my Aunt and Uncle's doorstep. Then I had to somehow learn to be a normal child, make friends, go to school, which I did. I had friends, I made friends, but then middle school happened. And now High School, and suddenly I have two friends, one who I'm not even sure really is a friend, and more than two people who hate my guts.

My uncle died and you know what, I was so angry because it was my fault. I almost killed the guy who shot him, but I didn't. Save people right? Avenge people? Isn't that what you all do? Avenge? You know what happened? He got out on probation, not sure how, and ended up killing three more people in an armed robbery before committing suicide by cop. Guess when this was. Germany. I learned about it when I got back and my Aunt was staring at the TV playing the news report on it. I lost one of the only people I could trust, and because I decided to be a good guy and let him live, three more people were lost to their families. I don't know where I'm going with this anymore, but I've lost so much, and no one noticed.

I've dealt with shit before, alone, because no one knew who I was. Now, there's only one person on Earth who knows who I am that I trust that isn't dead. I don't think he noticed I was gone either. I vanished off the face of the Earth, and not a single person was looking for me, not one, at least, not for a very long time. Then, purely because I wouldn't break, you guys were lured into the Corporation's clutches just so they could break me. So really, if I would've broken sooner, you never would have been any the wiser as to where Spider-man went. Is he dead? Is he hiding? Did he move away? What happened to your friendly neighborhood Spider-man? He was dead the second his aunt was." Peter spat the final sentence and proceeded to walk back to his room, slamming the door hard enough that cracks ran up the wall.

"What the fuck Tony," Steve said through gritted teeth, keeping himself from lunging at the man, but only barely. Those who didn't know about Steve's foul mouth looked at the man in shock, but couldn't blame him.

"I know I ignored the kid."

"We know you ignored him Tony, but did you even think about the consequences your actions could have, not just physically? I mean emotionally and mentally. Did you think about how ignoring a kid who had been abandoned by various people he trusts could potentially hurt him? Did you know anything about the kid before you dragged him in? Did you know about his parents?"

"I don't know anything more than what I gathered from random intel. I knew he lived with his aunt, and I knew his uncle had died, and I knew where he went to school and I managed to put together he was Spider-man, but I never delved deeper than that."

"For fuckssake Tony! You didn't know anything about the kid before you dragged him into a war," Sam shouted. Tony was trying to keep it together, but he was having trouble. He knew he fucked up, big time, and he wished that he had a time machine to go back and fix everything. He knew he needed to fix everything, but he wasn't sure how.

"Look I know alright! I know I fucked up! I know that what I did was shitty! I know I should have paid attention to the kid. I know all these things, okay. I realize I was an asshole, and I still am an asshole, but I'm trying to help the kid. I'm trying to make it up to him."

"You're trying to fix a broken kid to make up for breaking him?" Tony gritted his teeth and felt his chest pang with anger at himself.

"I know I hurt him when he was hurting, but I never knew, I never thought that a kid who had so much energy, and who always looked so innocent and happy, who was always bouncing around, excited, whenever he saw something he liked, could have so much pain below the surface."

"You know what they say Tony," Natasha said, scolding the man. She was angry at him, pissed actually, but she could see that Tony was close to breaking down himself, and that he loathed himself for being the way he was.

"What's that," the billionaire responded quietly.

"The loneliest are often the kindest, the saddest smile the brightest, and the most damaged are the wisest. All because he didn't want anyone to worry, or feel the same way." Tony buried his face in his hands.

"I royally screwed the pooch."

"Got that right asshole."


	13. Author's Note 2

**Hello my peeps, it's been a while since an Author's Note, and I need to tell y'all some things.**

 **Firstly, this story is slightly depressing, and I apologize ahead of time for any inaccurate portrayals of depression, or anxiety, or panic attacks, or PTSD, or anything that isn't right. I really try, but sometimes, it slips away from me and things go a bit wonky and yikes.**

 **Secondly, any out of characterness, I'm also sorry for. I try to make the characters sound like the characters, but alas, I am a different writer than those who create these characters so yeah, that's a thing.**

 **Thirdly, clarification. I know that the "base" is technically the Compound, but I call the Corporation's thing the Compound, so that's something I made happen in here unintentionally. Also within clarification are time frames, dates, and years and all that shit. I suck at keeping things straight, so if times don't line, up, or there are different ages or years for the same thing, it's me having a brain fart and struggling to remember if the thing I remember is actually the thing I used before or not. I also have zero motivation to go back through and read what I write because eww, it's not good.**

 **Fourthly, my updating. I have been (surprisingly) consistent with updates, about once a day, but that might change due to work and/or school starting back up soon so heads up if this story is still going by then. There's also the summer assignments I need to do still, so that might take my time, so yeah.**

 **Fifthly, and I know this is a lot of shit, but my writing is shit, alright? I know there are random words that might be missing, and I know that some things don't line up, or aren't explained, and I know that it's a bit spastic, and I know everything that's wrong with it, so I apologize for all of that.**

 **Sixthly, the following chapter, or few, will probably contain a trigger or few because it's getting dark again. I know that I was slowly making it seem happier, but when you're recovering from the shit Peter is, there are good days, days when you can laugh and feel like you're okay, but then reality hits and BAM, you're dead and broken all over again. Whenever things look up, think of a rollercoaster. You're relaxing as the ride chunks it's way to the peak of the track and then you look and see for a while, but then you look down, thinking oh shit, and suddenly the coaster is tipping over the edge and you're shooting back down to earth with a shriek lost in the wind. Shit happens, and when it does, it's hard to get past sometimes. Peter has had a shitty, shitty life in my story, which means his problems run deeper than the group expected, which mean that he will rollercoaster with more lows than highs, and with steeper falls and climbs.**

 **Seventhly, I don't want to make any "good guy" into a "bad guy". In my story, Tony did ignore the kid more than I actually think he would have, but he's Tony. He gets distracted for days by projects, and then gets distracted from the projects by another thing, and then Avengers, and then projects, and company, and everything happening. I, personally, have it so in this story Tony ran himself a bit ragged and Peter somehow got pushed to the back of his mind as he focused on twenty other things. Shit went down, he started drinking again, thus not being himself and yelling at Peter, which he wouldn't necessarily remember clearly enough. I don't mean to make Tony a bad guy in any sense, it's just that I know that I unintentionally push important things back when other things distract me, and I think that with Tony, it might happen as well.**

 **Eighthly, Peter's parents. I made them into the worst parents in the world, experimenting on their own child, smh. This was mainly because plot, but also because I feel that, since Peter's parents, at least his dad, were scientists, and somehow Peter doesn't die when a venomous spider, a radioactive one at that, bites him and physically changes his DNA, that it is possible for his parents to have done something to him as a child. I took that, and made it so that poor little Petey was basically treated like a lab rat for the first six years of his life. I feel terrible for saying this, but I love dragging beloved characters through as much pain and suffering as possible.**

 **Ninthly, I have no fucking clue what I'm doing with this anymore. I don't know where I'm going with it, what I'm doing with it, or how I'm going to ever end it. I feel that if I do end it, it'll will be all shitty and sappy, and I hate that. Notice how I said "if" because I have no idea if this will ever end. I feel as though I'm going to end up going in circles, going up and down and up and down that rollercoaster forever. I could've ended it a little bit ago, but I wanted more chapters and words, but then I basically broke Peter again, and now I have to resolve it, and it's a mess.**

 **Tenthly, I'm still around. Kind of. These last chapters, and the next few chapters, are somewhat dark, and I don't know why...I guess my mind said "no, screw him over, fuck with his mind and break him" for no reason. I'll update when possible, and if you don't hear from me for a day or more, don't worry, I'm probably just dealing with school shit, or I forgot, or something else. I promise to stay alive, I pinky swear.**

 **I think that's about it, plot things, time things, character things, me things, all covered.**

 **Oh! If there are plot holes, let me know and I'll fix them, because I don't reread or proofread at all so there's bound to be a multitude. Just don't be an ass about it. Also, if confused, let me know and I'll try to explain, or fix the confusing thing.**

 **I flip-flop a lot with ideas in my mind so if one thing starts with a different tone or purpose than it ends with, that's my mind fucking with me so don't worry, unless it's confusing, then let me know.**

 **Anyways, I think that's it, finally. This was an insanely long rant type thing, so if any of you actually read through it all, congratulations, and thank you for actually reading what I write.**

 **The last thing I need to say is Thank You. Thank you to everyone who favorites, follows, reads, and especially reviews because everytime my phone lights up telling me someone reviewed, or followed, or favorited my story it brings a flutter of joy to my heart and brightens my day. I was in a shitty mood the other day, and reading through the reviews helped make me feel better, so just, thank you.**

 **Thank you so much.**

 **I love you guys, gals, and everyone in between and not.**

 **You make my day.**

 **Peace.**

 **P.S. THANK YOU!**


	14. Chapter 11

He had no idea why he felt so angry, or why he straight up screamed at the Avengers. As soon as he slammed his door, wincing with the loud bang it gave and the cracks that formed on the wall, he had wandered up a wall and sat in the hammock he made one day in the corner of the ceiling. He had grabbed a blanket on the way up and draped it over himself, shrouding him in darkness before everything hit him.

Peter could feel his heart start beating violently, the gaps between each pump seeming to get smaller every single time it pounded against his ribs. He had just yelled at the Avengers, hell he barely held anything back from screaming at them for not finding him, at Tony for ignoring him and abandoning him. He had shouted his thoughts aloud to the entire group, a few of whom were not present at the Compound, and whom he had no right screaming at, but did anyways.

Tears sprang in his eyes as his breath hitched in his throat, trying to contain the sobs that were threatening to overtake him. Oh god, he just told the whole team what he was thinking, they probably hated him. He knew this was a temporary thing, why would the Avengers let him stay with them for an extended amount of time anyways, but now he knew that he just fucked up his friendship, or acquaintanceship, with the only group of people he felt he could somewhat trust, other than Ned and possibly Michelle, sorry, MJ.

Peter knew he was on the verge of a panic attack, and panicked more when he realized that he was high up on the ceiling and could fall and hurt himself if he had an attack up here. Breath catching in his throat, he tried throwing away the blanket and getting out of the hammock, but only succeeded in tangling himself up more, causing more panic. Thrashing wildly to get out of his confines, he stopped thinking about safety, and started thinking about how he felt trapped, like he couldn't escape again, like he'd never get out. With a somewhat loud roar, he ripped the blanket, literally, off of him and proceeded to fall out of his supposed safe haven.

He hit the floor with a thud, hissing in pain as his wrist twisted wrong in the fall, but the pain numbed as spots danced in his vision. He knew he was hyperventilating, and he didn't want to pass out, because if he passed out, he might wake up somewhere else other than his room, and that freaked him out even more. Scrambling to a corner, he pressed his back against the wall, curling up as tight as spiderley possible and slowly rocked back and forth, not realizing it.

His whole body trembled, his breath shaking violently with every shallow inhale and exhale, as tears flowed down his face. His limbs started to feel heavy and became numb, just like his slowly swelling wrist, as he gave silent sobs. He wanted to yell, scream, throw something, but he couldn't move, he couldn't speak, he couldn't breathe. Peter just sobbed silently, trying to ride it out, but his brain was on overdrive bringing up everything it could to make it worse. It recalled his time fighting the Vulture, his time fighting Goblin, his time at the Compound, his time in Richard's Labs, any time that one would consider stressful. It even brought in random things he said or did years before any of this happened, where it was just school.

Every moment where he felt panic, where he was stressed beyond belief, where he felt like shit, where he stopped caring and wanting to do things, where he stopped wanting to live, it was all flooding his mind, making his hearing grow muffled, like he was underwater, and his vision darkened more and the world started to tilt as he breathing stopped. He tried to breath in and then out, but his body just sucked the air in, and sucked more in, and sucked more in, until he felt lightheaded and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the air to leave his lungs. He felt like he was drowning.

Peter didn't notice the calls of the AI, FRIDAY, as she tried to ask if he was in need of assistance, and then in a seemingly worried tone, if he was alright. He didn't respond, he couldn't respond, because he couldn't hear her. A whine had started softly and increased in volume as his vision darkened further with every fluttering gasp he took. He had had bad panic attacks before, but this one, this one felt the worse. He couldn't move an inch of his body, everything was numb, he felt like he was dying, though he could have been, he wasn't sure, everything was suffocating him. He needed to get out, but he couldn't move.

"Sir, Peter needs you," FRIDAY said, interrupting the tense silence that had overtaken the group, who were still sitting at the table, processing everything that had happened a few minutes previous. No one had heard the AI really call anyone by the first name, nor so blatantly say that someone needs someone else. They looked at each other and got up, quickly following Tony, who bolted before the AI finished speaking. Tony would have knocked, but FRIDAY's tone, for being an AI, sounded terribly concerned and frightened, so he burst in.

Peter didn't hear the door open with a slam, or hear his name being called, or anything. He felt really dizzy and nauseous and he still, couldn't, breathe. Breathing is important, right? Peter was trying to think, but everything was fuzzy. He thought that maybe over the whine and the weird muffled sound of everything, just maybe, he heard Tony calling his name. He didn't flinch when someone touched him, only because he couldn't move. His head was raised so he could stare directly at Tony, panic written all over the teens face.

Tony freaked out, externally instead of just internally like usual. He ran to Peter and called the kid's name, but he got no response, and hearing the choked breathing coming from the teen, he realized that it was possible Peter was having trouble breathing. Tony took note of the swollen red wrist, but pushed it aside to address later. He tried shouting the kid's name, but the kid didn't move an inch, or stop trembling violently for one second. He was curled in so tight that it looked like he was trying to crush himself. Tony knew it was a bad idea, but he shoved that thought aside and grabbed the kid's shoulders, trying to ground him and waiting for the inevitable flinch. When there was no reaction other then the kid's shoulders tensing slightly, Tony flipped out and grabbed the kid's face, forcing the teen to look at him. The utter fear and panic that was written all across the kid's tear-stained face nearly killed Tony.

"Kid, Pete, hey, look at me kid, can you breathe with me, can you try to breathe like me? Follow me, in, out, in, out," Tony said, trying to slow his own breathing enough to help Peter try to breathe normally. All he got was the kid trying and failing, only managing to choke on the air and not be able to exhale. The kid's eyes widened comically as he tried to breathe, but kept failing. Tears ran down the kid's face and his lips had started turning slightly blue, his face turning slightly pink. Tony cursed under his breath and nearly had a panic attack himself when Peter's eyes rolled up into his head and he went utterly limp in Tony's arms, not moving at all. He went from vibrating violently, to completely still, in less than a second.

"Peter," Tony shouted, his fingers immediately searching for a pulse, and he nearly cried in relief when he found one, beating fast, but strong. The kid had also started breathing again, which did cause a few tears to escape from Tony's eyes as he picked the kid up and started hauling him towards the med bay. He told FRIDAY to have Bruce go to the med bay as soon as he saw Peter having an attack, and he was really glad he did, because the kid needed to be checked over, at least for his wrist, which looked nasty. The rest of the team had ended up back in the living room, waiting, because Tony had told FRIDAY to make sure they stayed there because having the entire team around a panicking kid was not a good idea.

He carried Peter all the way to the med bay, and even though he wasn't the strongest on the team, the kid was still extremely light, and Tony barely broke a sweat by the time they ended up in the room with Bruce. The billionaire laid the kid on a bed and Bruce placed a wireless heart rate monitor over his finger, and an oxygen mask over his face, to help with the breathing troubles, even if it had passed. The heart rate monitor beeps became less rapid and settled down at a steadier pace, still fast, but since neither Tony nor Bruce knew the kid's regular rhythm, they couldn't be sure if it was fast or normal, but it was low enough to not be dangerous that they didn't worry.

The two sat in silence, Bruce putting a brace on Peter's wrist after determining that it was sprained and not anything worse, and that it should heal quickly. After finishing his task, the doctor looked at Tony, who had guilt written all over his face as he watched the oxygen fog up with the teen's breaths, and sighed.

"Tony." The billionaire hummed in response, not looking away from the passed out kid. "What happened?"

"What do you mean? I don't actually know, I mean I walked into his room and he was in a corner having a panic attack. He didn't react when I grabbed him, while trying to calm him down, and then he just passed out."

"Probably from lack of oxygen, but that's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean Bruce," Tony asked, looking at the man, eyes filled with sorrow, which aged him greatly. Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before looking at the kid, and then back at Tony,

"I mean, what exactly happened between you and the kid. We all heard his outburst and heard his side. What's yours?" Tony blinked a few times before pursing his lips and looking at the unconscious form resting in bed. He ran a hand over his face before answering. The steady beep of the monitor making sure that the room wasn't silent.

"It's pretty much like the kid said, I ignored him, and I shouldn't have. I didn't think, at least emotionally, what effect I could have on him by not responding to him, or even really acknowledging him. Now it's obvious what I did, and I realize that I knew what I was doing at the time, it's just at the time, I didn't put it together."

"Tony-"

"Don't, don't lecture me Bruce, I already know I fucked up," Tony said, defeated. It was Bruce's turn to purse his lips and he wheeled his stool over to Tony and put a hand on the billionaire's shoulder.

"I wasn't going to. I'm mad at you for being such a dick to the kid, pardon my language, but I don't feel the need to lecture you. I think you're beating yourself up enough for all of us," Bruce said with a dry chuckle, and Tony gave a smirk back, shrugging. "I'm just saying that I get it Tony. You aren't used to caring about someone, or dealing with emotions, or being a mentor to a kid, or anyone really. While I don't agree with the way you handled it, it's somewhat understandable as to your lack of acknowledgement of him, because you own a company, you have work to do, and Avengers business, all on top of dealing with an immature, brand new, fifteen year old hero who doesn't know what he's doing. You're stressed out, and he somehow just got pushed back in your list of priorities, and I'm going to say this again, I am mad at you for being an asshole, but you care for the kid. If I know you at all, you're probably thinking about how if you could change it, you wouldn't hesitate, even if it meant consequences for the future. As long as the kid is safe and in one piece, you wouldn't care what happened to the future, would you?" Tony shook his head.

"I wouldn't hesitate to go back and not ignore him, even if it meant that I was the one hurting instead of him, I wouldn't hesitate to help him not feel like he does now."

"I know you're a great man Tony, and are working on becoming a good one, but if you want to help the kid not feel like he's feeling, you'd have to go back a lot farther than a few months. The outburst today was pent up feelings the kid had been holding onto for years. What he said may have been true, but I sure as hell would bet everything I own on the kid not meaning a word he said, and regretting everything he did say."

"You don't know that Bruce. I mean, I screwed the pooch, hard, and I think he meant exactly what he said."

"No, I didn't," Peter said, causing both men to look at the sitting teen, who had taken the oxygen mask off his face. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and he looked like someone who had just been through hell and back. "I didn't mean to say any of that. I mean, that's what I was feeling, but I don't blame you, any of you, for anything that happened, I just, it was a rough morning and night. I sort of broke the dam holding everything in place and I didn't mean to yell at you guys and I'm-"

"I swear to god if you say you're sorry I will sick Steve and Bucky on you, and they are the worst mother hens that exist," Tony threatened and Peter's mouth snapped shut with an audible click.

"How much did you hear kid?"

"Pretty much everything, and I swear I didn't mean it Tony, I'm really grateful for everything you've done for me, honest."

"I still could have paid attention to you instead of threatening you with a flyswatter whenever you came around." Peter shrugged.

"Yeah, you could have actually talked to me once and awhile. I mean, Happy talked to me more than you, and I rarely saw him, and when we did talk, it was him telling me to quiet down, or quiet bouncing, or no more caffeine," Peter said, mocking the way Happy talked, causing Tony to smirk at the kid's antics. "Seriously though, you could have responded to me a couple times."

"Note to self, respond to bug boy more," Tony said, earning a light slap on the arm from Peter at the name.

"I'm not a bug boy, spiders are arachnids."

"Sorry, my bad baby arachnid." Peter scrunched his nose and stuck his tongue out at the man, causing Tony to roll his eyes. "See, child. In all seriousness though kid, are you alright?"

"No, and I know that, but I'm trying to be better," Peter said softly, yet with force behind his statement, causing both Bruce and Tony to smile. "Are you going to kick me out?"

"What?"

"For yelling at you guys. I know this is a temporary thing, but I don't really have anywhere I could go, maybe Ned's, but I don't want to risk snapping," Peter said with a flourish of his hands.

"Temporary? Kid, you can stay here as long as you need to, or until you are old enough to go out on your own. If child services come a-knocking, I'll have my lawyers deal with them. You're staying here until you're ready to leave, and that won't change. You're also welcome any time Peter, the door's always open."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah kid, seriously. You didn't think that we'd just kick the stray puppy who followed us home, out of the house?"

"You're taking this whole dog analogy way too seriously Tony, it's a bit creepy, and concerning." Peter had an eyebrow raised as Tony shrugged.

"Hey, it the shoe fits, chew it," Tony said with a smirk, pausing before the final two words for dramatics. Peter and Bruce groaned.

"What does that even mean," Peter said, slight irritated at Tony's obsession with the puppy analogies with him.

"I really don't know, I just wanted to screw with you. Anyways, the team is in the living room, waiting to see if you're okay or not. Shall we go show them you're okay? Also, what did you do to your wrist?" Peter had frozen at the thought of seeing the other Avengers, and then he looked down at his splinted wrist and blushed.

"I fell out of my hammock." Tony looked at him strangely.

"Seriously? Spider-man fell from the ceiling and managed to sprain his wrist. That's rich kid, it is," Tony said letting out a laugh, but stopped when he saw Peter still looking at the brace, pulling at it uncomfortably. "Hey kid, you can take it off in a few hours when it's healed."

"I started panicking."

"What?"

"I was in my hammock with a blanket, and I started freaking out because I yelled at you, I shouted at the Avengers, I was so angry and I tried to stop talking, tried to stop before I started, but I was just so tired and done with everything and I exploded at you guys and I started freaking out because I totally fucked up my chance of staying here and I tried to get out, but I couldn't, and the blanket kept wrapping up tighter and tighter and I ripped the blanket and fell and then it's sort of blank," Peter said, his breathing increasing as tears pricked his eyes, the heart rate monitor beeping rapidly.

"Kid, hey, calm down, you're okay, you didn't mean anything by those words, no one hates you. Remember what I said, we aren't just going to kick you out. If we kicked people out for speaking their mind, there wouldn't be anyone here. Kid, you're safe," Tony said, staring the kid in the eyes until his breathing evened out somewhat and the heart rate monitor stopped screaming at them, and the beating sunk back to a manageable pace.

"I've been meaning to ask Peter, but is your heart rate always elevated."

"It's always been higher than normal, but I'm pretty such that just stress, and constant anxiety, and probably also the spider DNA to some extent. I'm special," Peter said, batting his eyes with a hand under his chin, feigning angelicness. Tony gave a roar of laughter as Bruce looked completely done with the two, standing up and walking out with a mutter that he'd be in the living room when they were ready.

"Seriously kid, you're safe here. There will always be room for you, and a spot with your name on it. We're all broken in our own ways, so you'll fit right in. The thing about our little 'family' is that if we didn't have one another, some of us might not be around anymore, or things might have ended differently for others. If there's one thing that the Avengers know how to do besides avenge, it's help people who need them. And you kid, you are getting our full attention as long as you feel you need us. We won't leave you, just let us know what's going on with you, and how we can help you work through it, and you be your normal, weird, science-loving self. Now what do you say that you and I head to the living room to let everyone know you're alive?" Peter nodded, swiping tears away, and hopping off the bed.

"Hey guys," Peter said with a shy wave as he wandered into the room. Every head turned towards him and each smiled brightly at him.

"Peter! You're alive!"

"Yep," he said, popping the P and plopping down on the floor between Steve and Bucky's legs. Clint was upside down on the couch next to Natasha, who was rolling her eyes as he tried and failed to throw popcorn in his mouth. Sam looked smug, and Bucky disgruntled, because the former was sprawled out, squishing Bucky up to Steve, forcing the soldiers to sit shoulder to shoulder with the former Winter Soldier having no wiggle room. Tony sat down near Clint, who gave a betrayed cry as another piece hit his teeth and bounced away. Peter looked around at the supers and smiled softly. FRIDAY dimmed the lights and Clint grabbed the remote, turning on the movie they had apparently decided on, and were waiting for Peter to arrive to start watching. The second the movie started Peter let out a snort and Clint smirked and started laughing, as did Peter.

"Seriously? Again?"

It was Aladdin.


	15. Chapter 12

After the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day Peter had around a week previously, he noticed a shift in the Avengers' demeanor, and the way they acted around him. They still messed with him, and acted normally, but their gaze would linger on him, and concern would be in their eyes whenever Peter looked closely enough, and their smiles were genuine, but filled with other emotions as well as happiness, with sympathy being a main one, as well as worry. Peter was annoyed to say the least. He loved that they were caring enough to be worried about him, but the constant worrying was beginning to get on his nerves. That and now he had a "watch" that he wasn't allowed to take off. This "watch" was actually a functioning watch, but if his heart rate started becoming too rapid, it would start glowing, a sign that it sent an alert to Tony or Bruce, or any nearby Avenger if they weren't around telling them to keep an eye out for, and an eye on, Peter, just in case he had another attack. He hated it.

He didn't mind Tony's want to keep him safe, but he didn't need someone barging in on him whenever he was having just a mild attack, or if he exerted himself a bit too much in the gym at three in the morning because he couldn't sleep. Okay, it was nice because that time it was Bucky and they just sat and talked and decided to start doing their random snacking thing again whenever either couldn't sleep (which was every night pretty much between the two). Peter didn't need to be babysat every hour of every day; he was a teenager, fifteen, almost sixteen! He could take care of himself, but alas, if he so much as tried to remove the wristband, Tony would be notified and he would end up getting a stern glare from Tony that would last anywhere from two to twenty minutes before the man just rolled his eyes, mussed Peter's hair, and wandered away towards his lab.

The support system in place was great and all, but Peter felt smothered, and like he was suffocating from all the attention he was getting. He was ready to explode again, unless he could get out of the base. He hadn't actually been outside the walls since the morning run where he freaked out and they had to go back to the building, and that was weeks ago. So, one night, waking up from another nightmare, he steeled himself, hacked the watch to take it off without alerting anyone, threw on some shoes, grabbed his webshooters, and crawled into the air vents.

He knew where he was going. It wasn't like he hadn't crawled around the air vents before, Clint even gave him a tour and told him how to get random places undetected, mostly. It was a fun day and Peter smiled thinking about how he and Clint went around terrorizing the others, until Bucky sort of got a bit too freaked out when he heard something crawling in the air vents and shot up near Clint was. Peter was shocked, but he was too busy laughing at the incredibly high-pitched and girlish shriek that Clint gave out as he leapt back in shock. Good times.

Using his heightened senses, he made his way through the pitch black ducts towards the roof. The smell of fresh air was getting stronger and his eyes could sense the shift in light, no matter how slight. The metal also became slightly cooler to the touch as he got closer to the roof. He wanted to cry in happiness when he saw the moonlight streaming through the grate and barely refrained himself from doing just that.

He grabbed the grate and gave it a slight shove, holding on with his sticky fingers so it didn't clatter and make noise. Crawling out on the gravel, he replaced the cover and wandered to the edge of the roof, closing his eyes and breathing in the fresh air. He couldn't stop the stray tears from trickling down his face. He could taste the salt as the tears hit his lips, which were curled into one of the only, truly genuine smiles he's given in a while. Sure he'd smiled before, but it was with a spontaneous joke or happenstance that occurred. This smile was one of relief, and happiness, and freedom. He felt like he could finally breathe. He wasn't thinking about anything other than how the stars and moon glowed brightly against the dark blue/black of the night sky. There were lights, sure, but not as many as New York, meaning Peter could actually see the stars and moon clear as day.

He sat on the edge, legs dangling off, hands on ground on either side of him. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds. Owls hooting, crickets chirping, the occasional random person talking softly about something equally as random, the leaves of trees rustling, soft scurrying of nocturnal mammals, the breeze slowly blowing by. He smelled the freshness of the plant life, the slight stench of oil, grease, and gas, the dusty smell of the gravel near him and of the dirt on the ground, the beginning of the morning dew. He was at peace for the first time in a long while. Well, for a bit anyways.

"Hey, kid, Peter? Are you okay? I was alerted you took your band off….You know, I'd feel a hell of a lot more comfortable if you'd respond to me kid. That and take a few steps back from the edge. Peter? Kid? Please, just walk it back a little bit and answer me, give me something." Peter had had his head tilted back, tears still trickling from his eyes, and he sighed gently as he heard Tony approaching a few moments before he spoke. He gave a laugh of a sob and apparently Tony didn't think that was a good sign. "Kid, let's just talk about what's going on with you. I know it hurts, but let's just talk it out okay? You're doing so well recently, there isn't any need for any drastic measures," Tony pleaded, worry and fear bleeding into his voice. Peter gave a small nod, spinning around and standing, walking over to Tony, a small smile on his tearstained face. He stopped a few feet from the billionaire, who looked at him with such concern, Peter's heart clenched, but he gave another wet laugh as he wiped at his eyes.

"I'm fine Tony."

"No you're not, you're crying and sitting on the edge of a building to which, if you jumped, even you couldn't heal from fast enough," Tony said, stepping a bit closer, looking ready to leap at the kid if he tried something. His expression turned to confusion when Peter cocked his head and gave a small, sad smile.

"Honestly, I'm better than I have been in a while. I wasn't planning on jumping, hell, I wasn't even thinking about doing anything like that. Guess there's a first time for everything right?" Tony winced at what Peter was implying and Peter's eyes widened when he realized what he said. "Don't worry, I was just trying to make a point, but words don't work," Peter said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I meant that since coming here and being with you guys, I haven't really thought about ending anything. I did think about, you know, the other stuff," Peter said, rubbing his arms absent-mindedly, "But I haven't done anything for weeks now, ever since you and Steve and Bruce and I talked. I wasn't up here to jump, I just wanted to be free."

"You've lost me kid. Be free? You can come and go as you please kid, we're not keeping you here." Peter shook his head with a smile.

"I know that Tony it's just, you guys are all so great and I love having so many people care so much. It's a bit weird, actually, having people who hardly know me care so much about what happens to me. It's just, I felt smothered the past week. All of the glances, the smiles, the worry in the eyes, everything that screamed that you were all waiting for me to break again, and that you were worried I might not bounce back from it, it was all getting to me and I needed an escape. I tried hacking the watch after I woke up, and apparently failed at hacking it, and climbed through the air vents to get here. Since then, I've just been sitting, listening to everything, smelling all the different mixtures of things, feeling the breeze and tasting the dust, dirt, rain, and everything else carried by the breeze. I've been escaping from my freedom, just to feel like I was free."

Tony stood still, unsure of how to respond. On one hand, he was still worried about the kid, but on the other hand, the way Peter's eyes lit up with a life that Tony hadn't seen, even when he met the kid originally, and how the kid smiled, all lopsided and puppy-eske, the way he stood, relaxed and somewhat confident it seemed, it all screamed at him that he was finally building himself up slightly, or at least coming to terms with everything. Tony gave a smile back and wandered over to the kid. He stood in front of the teen for a bit before throwing his arms around him in a tight hug. Tony disliked affection and admitting emotion, and apparently Peter noticed because he hesitated putting his arms around Tony and hugging back. The two remained like that for what felt like hours, but was really only a few minutes. Both boy and mentor had tears on their faces and both laughed before wandering to the edge and sitting down.

"So you're feeling better?" Peter laughed, rubbing at his eyes and nodding, staring up at the stars with a fond and calm smile gracing his lips.

"I'm feeling better than I have in a while. I mean, I know it's going to be a hell of a long and shitty road before I feel like I'm thirty or forty percent, and even longer before I reach my supposed max of around sixty, but right now, I feel truly happy. I feel like I can relax for the first time in years. I can still see my aunt and uncle dying, and I feel that pain in my chest, but I still have people who care about me. I'm trying to get past the guilt and heartache, and trying to reach the point where I can accept that I did everything I could, and I'm getting closer I think."

"That's great Peter, I'm proud of you."

"Thanks Tony. It's nice to see that I still have a family, even if it's not by blood. What I went through, well, that's another story. Right now, thinking about it makes me feel sick, but I know that with time, and a little help from my friends, I can accept that too," Peter said, determination on his face. Tony couldn't help but be a bit shocked by the seriousness that overtook the teen's face and the pure maturity of what he was saying.

"Wow kid, I'm older than you, but even I wouldn't be able to say that."

"I know you're older than me, like, waaaaayyyyy older," Peter said with a smirk and Tony pretended to be offended and gave the kid a light shove, causing the younger to give a breathy laugh.

"I'll have you know that the ladies still love Tony Stark. In fact-"

"No, no, nope, I do not need to know anything about any of that, please no Tony," Peter said, pretending to be horrified and Tony just laughed loudly, clapping his hands together. He threw an arm around Peter and gave the barely struggling teen a noogie as both continued their giggling.

The two sat for hours talking through things. They talked about school, and science, and work, and anything and everything. Peter learned more about Tony that he would have ever hoped, and Tony learned more about the spiderling whom he had taken under his wing. He learned that the kid's parents went down in a plane crash, and even though he hated them, he still had a fear of flying purely because of what he called "Parker Luck" which to Peter was one of the reasons he was a mess in a clumsy, always-losing-or-breaking-stuff kind of way.

They talked about books, and girls, and formulas, and the stars, and whatever was on their minds. The sun slowly rose over the treetops, turning the sky into fire and causing the pair to take a few minutes and just stare at the flaming sky, glowing with soft reds and bright oranges mixing with pale yellow. Brilliant blue emerged from a dark purple and fluffy, cotton white clouds began to show, thin and drifting lazily across the canvas of color.

It wouldn't be for another hour or two before someone else joined them on the roof. Then another, and another, and soon every Avenger (and others on the team unofficially) had joined Peter sitting on the roof, just watching the world live and grow, chatting and laughing the whole time. Wanda, Vision, Steve, Bucky, Sam, Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Tony, and even Scott and T'challa, who were at the base for some reason that Peter didn't pry into. He was just looking down the line of people on both sides of him, talking and laughing and gently mocking one another, enjoying themselves while sitting on the edge of a building. Peter was smiling brightly, thinking about how, even though he lost one family, he had gained another, equally as crazy, but still not as super, family as he had in Aunt May and Uncle Ben. And, with this thought, came his realization that he could be okay. He knew he would never be okay, fully, but he knew that he could get to the point where when he said he felt happy and felt okay, he wouldn't be lying anymore. For the first time, in a long time, Peter felt genuine happiness that spread to every portion of his body. For the first time, in a long time, Peter could laugh without wondering if it sounded as fake as it was. For the first time, in a long time, Peter could breathe.

He was free.


	16. Author's Note 3

**Oh. My. Gosh. I just finished the story in a somewhat sappy, but ultimately not, way. And now I'm really sad! I loved writing this story, and about his recovery and stuff, and I might add in some random after-thought chapters if I feel the need. If you guys want me to write about some part of Peter recovering that you feel it needs, I will, no problem. Otherwise, this is it for this story. I may or may not make another part of the Fight series that may or may not bring back Dr. Hellekson (The Artist) and some other sort of threat that needs to be dealt with, but that's a HUGE maybe. I didn't even think through this story, so what makes you think I actually thought about anything beyond it?**

 **I guess this is it. You have been amazing people, and thank you so much for sticking through my terrible writing (even though a lot of you tell me that my writing is not shit, I stand by it because it's my writing so yeah) and my terrible continuation of things. I love all of you peoples and keep being amazing!**

 **Fun fact: If you'd like me to write about something Peter-wise, or Peter and Avenger-wise, just let me know either in comments, or through PMing me. I'd be happy to attempt to write whatever you guys want (except smut, I don't think I can write that….Well…..I can, but no, no smut). I always do my best, though it might take me a bit to complete the thing, I promise to finish it (and I've said that before on multiple other stories, but I'm serious, if it's for someone else, I will get it done). So if you have any story ideas you want me to take a crack at, let me know what they are and I'll do my best!**

 **Well, the stories officially over (unless I decide to add in some more, but I don't know). It's been real my peeps. I'm actually tearing up thinking about how this has come to an end. Thank you for sticking through the choppiness with me.**

 **Until next time my friends.**

 **Keep an eye out for other stories by moi if you'd like.**

 **Favorite, follow, and review what you must, and if you'd like. I won't force anyone to do anything.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **I love you all.**

 **Peace.**


	17. Author's Note 4 (Not part of the story)

**Hey y'all! This isn't an update, and I probably won't be writing anymore of this story. There might be some offshoot one shots, but nothing more under this title. This is just me telling you all something that's been nagging in my mind ever since I read it. A while ago, a guest commented that they'd like to see another chapter involving self-harm because, and I agree with this, it is really hard to stop and the littlest thing can set someone off again. I'm not writing this to reprimand the person or be angry, I just want to tell you peeps something.**

 **I know that self-harm is horrible, I know it's really hard to stop, and I know that the smallest things can set it off again.** _ **I know**_ **. I didn't write too much of it because it's hard for me to write about. I may counter myself by writing an offshoot that is a one shot (or possibly more) about self-harm, but I don't think it'll happen soon, if at all. I just kept thinking about it ever since it was posted weeks ago, and I felt I needed to let you all know that I understand that my grazing over the subject was just that, a light skim that wasn't really a big deal or mentioned as fully as it could have been, and I'm not justifying my clear skimming over the subject, I'm just trying to say that I didn't want to bring in too deep of a hurt to everything. There were touchy subjects in this, self-harm being one of them. Combining all the shit I did could prove to be a trigger for a multitude of people, and I didn't want to go super in depth with the self-harm aspect because I didn't want to cause anyone to feel that need.** _ **Anyone**_ **.**

 **The subject is extremely hard for me to talk about and write about, which is why I grazed over it like I did. I'm not being angry at someone pointing out the fact that it is hard as fucking** _ **hell**_ **to stop, I'm just saying why I didn't put in more of it in this story.**

 **I do apologize if anyone got their hopes up about a new update.**

 **This has been hanging in the back of my mind for a while and I felt compelled to let you all know.**

 **Peace my peeps.**

 **Keep safe.**


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